Breaking Point
by JessicaRNY
Summary: In attempts to solve a difficult case, Elliot and Olivia agree to go undercover in a particularly risky operation. Trust will be tested, and boundaries crossed, reopening some painful wounds. They are willing to place it all on the line for the sake of a victim, but will they be able to cope with the aftermath? E/O (Set after 'Undercover' in Season 9). COMPLETED pending epilogue(?)
1. Chapter 1

_As of 6.16.19, this story is now **completed** pending a possible epilogue._

* * *

 _Story Notes_

 _This story was my first creative writing attempt since grade school, and I had originally started this over a decade ago on the old SVUfiction site. When the site crashed, I abandoned it...and after 8 years (and prods from eotopia) I dusted it off and started working on it again. In re-reading this in preparation to re-post, I was tempted to change some of the bumpy things, but I (mostly) resisted the impulse. I kind of like that I was learning how to write as I went along. For new readers who aren't familiar with the story, if you can bear with me in the beginning, I'd ask that you get to at least Chapter 4 before you give up on me..._

 _Also, please note that this story goes to very dark places, but I **promise** I fix things if you can hang in there with me... Their shared trauma becomes the catalyst for healing and love... This story is largely about the healing process that ultimately brings them together, and I really tried to address that journey with sensitivity and care..._

 _At times, I specify music that I listened to while writing this. If anyone would like to hear the full playlist, I have one on YouTube under "Breaking Point". FFnet won't let me post links, but if you go to the resurrected SVUfic dot com, I have a link to it there._

 _I'm not sure that many people will find this here, but if you stumble across it, I hope you like the story and would welcome your feedback. Xoxo, Jessica_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

"What have we got Cap?" Olivia asked as he entered the room. She and Elliot had been elbow-deep in paperwork all day, and she was momentarily grateful for the distraction. As quickly as the thought entered her head she felt guilty, as she knew that her escape from desk duty was due to the existence of yet another victim. Elliot straightened in his chair, tossing his pen down on the papers in front of him.

"Rachel Peters, twenty-one years old," Cragen replied. "She was bussed to New York Presbyterian early this morning after she was found in an alley behind a convenience store. The owner called the medics. They were able to stabilize her, but she was unconscious until a couple of hours ago. A hospital social worker called it in: says the woman has multiple contusions at various stages of healing, and obvious signs of recent vaginal trauma."

"They do a rape kit?" Elliot asked.

"She's refusing, and this is where it gets interesting," he paused, shifting his gaze between the detectives, "she says she doesn't want to report it, but keeps asking to speak with the police."

Olivia furrowed her brow, "If not to report the rape, then why?"

"The social worker said she's not getting any answers, but said the woman became agitated enough to pull out her IV and try to leave – she became hysterical, repeating over and over again that she had to speak to the police. They gave her a mild sedative to calm her down. They want to keep her there for observation in case she has any internal bleeding."

"Head trauma?" Elliot suggested. "She could be delirious."

"Maybe, but I think you should see if you can get a statement."

Elliot and Olivia shared a quick glance, simultaneously reaching toward their respective jackets and heading toward the door.

Olivia slid into the passenger side as Elliot took his place behind the wheel. They rode in silence, not because of any overt tension, but because this is what they did now. Talking had the tendency to create tension, no matter what the subject matter. Making small talk only seemed to emphasize the myriad topics that were off limits. Thinking about these topics drew attention back to the emotions that burbled beneath and, as usual, any attempts to address the underlying issues only seemed to erupt in a torrent of sarcastic or vengeful remarks aimed at cloaking their own pain while imbuing it in the other.

Olivia shivered almost imperceptibly but Elliot noticed and adjusted the heater. The irony of the gesture was not lost on her – that they could remain attuned to each other's needs in so many ways despite the breakdown in verbal communication. Her lips curled into a wry smile, "Thanks," she said, hazarding a glance in his direction.

"Sure," he replied, his eyes meeting hers before returning to scan the road ahead.

She turned her head to the right to look out her own window, and they settled back into silence.

* * *

They made their way through the hospital corridors, flashing their badges at a few desks, although many of the personnel knew them on sight, nodding in acknowledgement and waving them on. As they neared Rachel Peters' room, a woman with short blonde hair and tired, blue eyes approached them from across the hallway.

"Detectives, my name is Kim Libby, the social worker assigned to Ms. Peters' case. Thank you for coming," she began. "I'm afraid I haven't been able to get any additional information from her, but she did calm considerably when I told her that you were on your way."

"Is she lucid?" Elliot asked.

"She is exhibiting signs of acute stress and traumatization, but as far as I could assess she appears to be oriented to person, place, and time."

"And the rape?" Olivia added.

"Her examination showed injuries that appear consistent with prolonged exposure to physical abuse, and I would not be surprised if this latest assault was indicative of a similar pattern of abuse over time. Although she was clearly demonstrating responses that indicated she has been exposed to a recent traumatic event, I got the sense that her fear and panic were related to something other than the rape itself."

Elliot nodded thoughtfully, "You think she knew her attacker?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I'm sorry I can't add much more insight than that."

"No, thank you for speaking with us," Olivia stated reassuringly. "We appreciate your time."

"Good luck detectives," she responded before turning to walk through the double doors at the end of the hall.

* * *

Elliot and Olivia approached Rachel's bedside. Rachel's eyes drifted open at the sound of their footsteps, evidently still calm from the sedative she had been given.

"Hi Rachel," Olivia began softly. "My name is Olivia Benson. I am a detective with the special victims unit, and this is my partner, Detective Stabler. I understand that you've been asking to speak with us."

Rachel looked between the two of them, glancing somewhat uneasily at Elliot before turning back to look at Olivia. Elliot picked up on her body language, and took a seat in a chair in the far corner of the room. He would let Olivia handle this interview.

"Can you tell me what happened?' Olivia asked.

Rachel's eyes welled up with tears and her chin started to quiver. "My boyfriend and I were at this club," she started. "He'd found out about this place through some chat room on the internet. I'd never been anywhere like this before." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. "The things they made these women do…" she trailed off, staring at a random point on Olivia's shirt with a haunted look in her eyes.

"Where was this, Rachel?" Olivia asked, using her name to try to bring her back from whatever she was re-witnessing.

"I, um, I don't know what it was called or where it was. My boyfriend, Mark, he said that he wanted to go to this club that hardly anybody knew about. He said that it was so special that the location was protected, and that this guy – Nikolai, I think – was going to have a car pick us up to take us there."

"Someone Mark met in the chat room?" Olivia clarified.

"Yeah," Rachel sniffed. "But one of the guys had a gun, and we didn't get to see where we were going, and I was so scared! Mark just laughed." Tears streamed down Rachel's face, and Olivia reached over to hand her a tissue.

"What happened when you got to the club?" Olivia asked.

"When we got there I thought it was just some strip club, but then after we sat down and I saw what they were doing…." She shook her head. "I mean, maybe they were paid to do this stuff, but some were begging the guys to stop."

Elliot's brow furrowed

Olivia was equally alarmed. "You think these women were being raped," she said as more of a statement than a question.

"I think so," Rachel sobbed.

"What happened next?" Olivia asked.

"Mark w-was," she hiccupped, "Mark was turned on by this stuff. He was trying to get me to…to force me to…" she trailed off. "And we had been there for a while, when I noticed this guy watching us. After a while he came up to Mark, and said something about a room in the back. I didn't hear everything he said over the music, but I heard him say that Mark wouldn't be disappointed – that he could make it worth his while." Rachel looked up at Olivia with a pained expression, and took in some shuddering breaths. Olivia waited patiently for her to continue. "I told Mark I wouldn't go back there, that I wanted to leave. He hit me and dragged me out of the booth. The man brought us to the back room, and I saw the bed and I just panicked." Rachel continued to speak through her sobs. "I tried to run, and Mark caught me, and threw me down. I was begging him to stop. The man just stood there watching. It was like the more I fought and begged, the more excited he became."

Elliot's fists clenched and Olivia did her best to mask her own response.

When Rachel spoke again she had regained some of her composure and her voice was quiet. "I was terrified that he was going to touch me but he never made a move. When Mark was finished, he left me on the bed and asked about his _reward_ ," she said disgustedly. "The man just smiled and told Mark the car would be waiting for him. Mark yanked me back through the club and out front. We got in the car again and they still didn't let us see where we were going. The drive felt like it took forever. When we finally stopped, we got out in front of this shack in the middle of nowhere. There were steps going down into a room in the basement." Rachel stopped and burst into tears again.

Olivia placed a hand on her back. "I'm so sorry Rachel," she said. "You're safe now, we're here to help you."

Rachel immediately lifted her head and became frantic, grabbing onto Olivia's arms. "No! Not me. You have to help _her_. Please, please help her!"

Olivia was confused, "Help who? Rachel, I don't understand. Who needs our help?"

"The little girl. Please, please, you have to help that little girl." Rachel collapsed forward onto Olivia's lap, continuing to sob, "Please, please help her."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Note_ :

 _Please hang in there with me...it will pick up soon. Also, in reading my old author note, apparently when I first posted this chapter on the old SVUfiction site, it was shortly after I'd met Chris and Mariska when they were filming on the Upper West Side... Is it wrong that I'm jealous of 2008 me?_

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Olivia turned around to look at Elliot, whose face had drained of all color. Once Rachel's sobs had subsided, Olivia asked, "Rachel, you saw this little girl in the basement?"

"Yes," she whispered, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"She had been abused?"

Rachel nodded, a single tear escaping and sliding down her cheek.

"Do you remember what she looked like, or how old she might have been?"

Rachel stared off into the distance. "She had blonde hair. She looked about nine, maybe ten years old. I saw her and I started yelling at Mark, telling him to stay away from her. The man with the gun pulled me back but Mark threw me down on the ground and was kicking and punching me over and over. Everything started to become fuzzy and I must have blacked out. That's the last thing I remember before waking up here."

"Rachel, we are going to do everything in our power to try to find this little girl. But we also want to help you. I just need to ask you a couple more questions, okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"You said that you weren't told the name or location of the club you went to. Is there anything else you can remember about the club or the car that picked you up?"

"I don't think so. I didn't see the outside of the club, just the inside. There weren't any windows or anything. The car was black. I wish I had thought to look at the license plates. The other place we went to was just surrounded by trees, so it couldn't have been in the city."

"Okay," Olivia paused. "Rachel, I need to ask you about Mark. How long have you known him?"

Rachel swiped at the tears that threatened to fall again. "We've been together for about six months. I know what you're thinking, but I didn't know he was like this! I mean, he'd hit me before, been a little rough during sex, but never anything like this."

"Are you living together?"

"No. I mean, sometimes I stay at his place, but I live with a couple roommates from school."

"You said that he found out about the club from a chat room. Do you know which one it was?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Did he ever access the internet from your apartment?"

"No, he always used the computer at his place."

"Rachel, is there anybody you need us to call? A family member? Friend?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'll call my roommate later."

Olivia paused, catching Elliot's eye before continuing. "Rachel, I know the nurse told me that you didn't want to have them do a rape kit."

Rachel shook her head adamantly. "No, I just want this to be over. I told you what I did because I wanted you to know what I saw."

"I know this is difficult, but the best chance we have of getting justice for you and for this little girl is to have the evidence to back it up. I can stay right here with you the whole time." Olivia placed her hand on Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel stared at her hands for a long while. "Okay," she whispered.

* * *

Elliot waited in the hospital corridor. He had called Cragen over an hour and a half ago to fill him in and had heard that Casey had gotten a warrant for Mark Anderson's arrest and a search warrant for his apartment. "Hey," he said as Olivia emerged from the room. "How's she doing?" ' _How_ _are_ _you_ _doing?_ ' is what he really felt like asking. He felt drained just having listened to Rachel's story and could not imagine what it must have been like for Olivia to remain at her side throughout the rape kit. One of the things he respected the most about Olivia was her ability to remain a calm and reassuring presence for the victims, regardless of her own emotional state.

"She's hanging in there. Her roommate is on her way. I gave her the number for victim's services, I just hope she decides to call."

Elliot nodded and stood. "Fin and Munch were headed to Mark's apartment. Hopefully we'll hear something soon."

He handed Olivia her jacket, which she accepted with a tired smile that did not reach her eyes.

* * *

They entered the squad room and Cragen motioned for them to come into his office. "Fin and Munch found Mark Anderson," he said. "He's dead."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "How?" she asked.

"M.E. is looking into it. Fin said it looked like he had taken quite a beating."

"Ruptured spleen," Munch clarified entering the room. "We found him on the couch. No sign of forced entry."

"Maybe he was roughed up as a warning to keep his mouth shut about what he saw," Elliot suggested.

"He makes it back to his apartment, thinks he's okay, and bleeds out," Olivia continued.

"You get his computer?" Elliot asked.

"T.A.R.U.'s looking at it now," Munch replied. "Fin is with them – says that there's quite the collection of photographs."

"Mark was our best bet at trying to get to this club. Let's hope his hard drive tells us something," Olivia said.

* * *

They returned to the main squad room, and Munch gestured to some boxes full of papers and other evidence that had been gathered from Mark's apartment. Olivia hauled one over to her desk, plopped down in her chair and began sifting through its contents. Elliot wandered over to pour himself a cup of coffee and searched in vain for any tea bags for Olivia. Elliot looked over his shoulder and caught Olivia stifling a yawn. He knew it was going to be an all-nighter, so he poured a second cup of coffee before returning to stand beside her, silently offering her the liquid energy. Olivia looked up at him with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as he waited patiently for her to take it.

"No more tea," he explained with an innocent expression, though the inflection of his voice revealed his true meaning: _"_ _No_ _more_ _tea,_ _Olivia._ _S_ _c_ _rew_ _Oregon._ _We_ _'_ _re_ _getting_ _back_ _to_ _normal._ _"_

This was not lost on Olivia who smiled in earnest and took the cup, her fingertips briefly brushing against his in the process. They each pretended they hadn't been aware of the brief contact.

"Okay," she conceded before taking a sip. "Thanks."

Elliot took his seat across from her, accepting the stack of papers Olivia held out for him, and each got back to work, desperately searching for something that might give them more information about the club or the man in charge.

A couple of hours went by before Fin entered the room. "Seems like this guy got his kicks off of seeing women dominated and abused," he announced to the group. "Some S&M stuff, but mostly sites featuring rape fantasies," he said. "From looking at photos he downloaded within the past couple of weeks, it looks like he stumbled across the real deal," he added. Fin handed a stack of photos to Cragen who then passed them around the group.

"Any information about the location?" Olivia asked hopefully.

"Nah," Fin shook his head, "but they were able to access some of his browsing history to see some recent sites he accessed, and they think they found the chat room Rachel told you about." Fin flipped through some pages of transcripts and placed a few pages on Olivia's desk. "Mark spent a lot of time on one site in particular, bragging to his online buddies about his ability to _'Make my bitch beg for mercy'_ and other shit. Seems like the more feedback he got the more detail he went into. He was a real piece of work." Fin pointed to one of the pages. "One night he gets a message from this guy, who called himself 'The Conqueror.'"

Munch smirked, "Rachel said she thought the guy's name was Nikolai?"

Elliot nodded.

"He's Russian alright: Nikolai means 'the conqueror.'"

"' _You think you're ready for the ultimate ride?'_ " Olivia read aloud.

"Then he posts this link," Fin continued, pointing to the next line. "We tried to access it, but the guy covered his tracks and took it down. Our thought is that he posted instructions regarding the meeting place and time there."

"The guy's smart," Munch reflected. "No correspondence to track, no phone calls to trace. He gives the details and they disappear with the site."

"Any way to track the site itself? See who registered it?" Cragen asked.

"I asked that too, but it looks like he may have linked Mark into a file on his computer. They're trying to see if they can get anywhere with that, but it looks like this guy could have done it from any computer, so their hunch is that he wasn't stupid enough to use one that could be traced back to him."

"If he used a computer in a public place, we might be able to catch him on surveillance tapes," Elliot suggested.

Cragen nodded. "Let's hope this guy slipped up somewhere."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Note:_

 _I know that things are moving slowly, but I promise that we are making baby steps toward E/O goodness...but there will be a lot of angst along the way..._

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

By the following evening tensions were running high as they weren't any closer to being able to track down Nikolai or the club. The technicians at T.A.R.U. had been able to trace the computer to an internet café, but the apologetic owner explained that the surveillance cameras were more for show than for anything else since they had yet to fix a problem with the feed that they'd been having over the past couple of months. Elliot and Olivia had interviewed a number of patrons and staff members, but the few prospective leads that came from these interviews only brought them to dead ends. Fin and Munch had gone to canvas areas that had ties to the Russian mob in hopes of finding some connection to Nikolai, but either people were doing a remarkably good job of covering for him, or there was no connection.

The combination of sleep deprivation and adrenaline had been taking its toll on everyone. Munch and Fin had been bickering like an old married couple until Elliot blew up at them, and were now giving one another the silent treatment. Elliot continued to brood at this desk, clenching and unclenching his jaw while poring over the same set of photographs for the umpteenth time to no avail. Somebody slammed a file cabinet drawer closed, startling Olivia who jumped in her seat, whipping her head around to glare at the rookie cop who raised his hands in surrender and apologized before scurrying out of the room.

Olivia turned back around and let out a frustrated sigh, resting her forehead in her hands and moving her palms in a circular motion to try to massage away the tension headache that had been building for hours.

"Olivia?" Cragen called from across the room, motioning for her to come into his office. She looked up from her desk and nodded her assent.

Elliot glanced over his shoulder at Cragen's retreating form. He turned back again to focus on Olivia with an inquisitive expression, and saw that she was just as puzzled as he was as to why Cragen would be calling only her and not the two of them into his office.

Olivia made her way across the squad room to his office. As she crossed the threshold she was surprised to find Huang seated to the right of Cragen's desk. "Cap?" she asked warily.

Huang noted her hesitation and offered a small smile of reassurance.

Cragen closed the door behind her and gestured for her to take a seat. "Dr. Huang and I have been discussing the case," he explained as he lowered himself into his chair, "and based upon his profile of Nikolai, it appears that we may have to go about this investigation in a different manner."

"How so?" Olivia asked.

"Nikolai is extremely meticulous and methodical," Huang began. "Every contingency was planned for well in advance, every loose end anticipated and rectified before he even made contact with Mark. I would imagine that he monitored Mark's postings on the chat room very closely before he chose him."

"What do you think made him choose Mark over the others?" Olivia asked.

"Mark was very outspoken and boastful, very driven by his emotions. Nikolai most likely saw Mark as someone whom he would easily be able to control," Huang replied. "The fact that he contacted Mark relatively quickly seems to indicate that he has done this before – most likely repeatedly."

"He's getting more confident," Olivia concluded.

"Exactly," Huang continued. "And therein may lie his flaw. If you are looking for him to make a mistake, it will stem from his confidence in his ability to choose his pawns, and from his assumption that he can continue his game without repercussions."

"His game," Olivia echoed disgustedly.

"Nikolai has surrounded himself with people who are weaker, less intelligent, and therefore more easily controlled. Essentially he views himself as a puppet master. The more people he has under his control, the more powerful he becomes, and the more dangerous."

"Then why let Mark rape Rachel?" Olivia seethed. "If he gets off on his ability to dominate and control others, why not do it himself?"

"My guess is that he may be impotent," Huang replied. "He prides himself on his perception that he is intellectually superior to others, and makes up for his inability to perform sexually by orchestrating circumstances in which females are raped and dominated. The more they struggle, the more powerful he feels."

"Because he put them there," Olivia finished.

She sat in silence for a moment, gradually taking in the significance of what Huang and Cragen were trying to convey to her. When she looked up at Cragen she saw the concern in his eyes and nodded her acceptance of the unspoken question before softly responding, "You want us to go undercover."

Cragen studied her face for a few moments before speaking, while Olivia braced herself for the inevitable discussion. "Olivia, after what you went through in Sealview, I would never order you to take on an assignment like this." Olivia noted that he specifically refrained from naming Harris, but her mind conjured up the images from that night nonetheless. She did her best to maintain an impassive expression. "Given the profile, I believe our best bet is to dangle the bait in the chat room and see if Nikolai will resurface. And if he does resurface…" Cragen hesitated.

"I know," Olivia nodded.

"Olivia," Huang began. "You don't have to do this. You have nothing to prove to anyone. If this is too much too soon-"

"I can do this," Olivia interrupted, her voice sounding more sure of herself than she actually was. "Elliot and I know this case backwards and forwards, we've clocked more time in the field than any other male/female partnership in here. We have the best chance of getting this guy and of finding that little girl."

"Olivia, you don't need to convince either of us of your ability to handle yourselves out there," Cragen replied, still not convinced that he wanted her to go down this road.

Olivia set her jaw. "I'm fine, Cap. Please let me do my job." She looked back and forth between Cragen and Huang, silently challenging them to say otherwise. The last thing she needed was for people to start walking on eggshells around her any time the going got tough. She had worked long and hard to establish herself as one of the best detectives, male or female, in SVU, and she would be damned if she would permit people to start making allowances for her because they thought she was fragile. She refused to let Harris have that amount of control over her reputation.

Cragen understood this and decided that for the time being he was going to have to trust her to come to him if she needed help. "Okay," he said simply. "Let's get Elliot in here."

* * *

"No!" Elliot said firmly. "Absolutely not." His eyebrows had shot to the ceiling when Cragen and Huang had filled him in. He looked over at Olivia with a near-panicked expression on his face. His mind was racing at the implications of what this assignment would entail. He understood why they had spoken with Olivia privately, but the fact that the were now speaking to him meant that Olivia had already _agreed_ to do this, and was effectively placing her physical and emotional well-being entirely in his hands. Naturally she trusted him to have her back in the field, but this was different. The realization of all that she was entrusting to him, coupled with the knowledge that they would be unarmed, brought about a sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Olivia attempted to hold his gaze, but had to look away because it revealed too much. Looks like those reminded her of why she had left for Oregon in the first place, and she knew that if she allowed her gaze to linger he would succeed in seeing straight into the depths of her soul that no amount of professionalism would be able to mask.

"Elliot," she managed, focusing on her hands, "You know as well as I do that this is our best shot. We've run out of other options."

"So we keep looking," he countered. "It's only been a couple of days."

Olivia heard the tinge of desperation in his tone and gathered up the courage to meet his eyes again. She saw her own fear reflected back at her, and knew that his stemmed from his desire to protect her from having to assume such a vulnerable role again. He had tried to get her to open up about her experience at Sealview several times, and each time she had shut him down. She felt guilty for having kept him in the dark, but the irrational part of her still felt that he might think less of her in some way for not having been better able to protect herself. _"_ _I_ _need_ _to_ _know_ _you_ _can_ _do_ _your_ _job_ _and_ _not_ _wait_ _for_ _me_ _to_ _come_ _to_ _your_ _rescue._ _"_ His words still reverberated in her core. She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat and pushed the memory aside.

"El," she said gently, as if speaking to a victim. "We're already working on borrowed time."

Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Elliot heard the slight tremble in her voice. It was so slight that he thought that Cragen and Huang had most likely not picked up on it, but he knew her too well. He wanted to argue the point further, but her eyes silently pleaded with him not to.

Elliot let out a defeated sigh. "I know," he conceded. He paused before turning to look between Cragen and Huang. He decided to start with the least threatening question. "So what's our next move?"

"We create an attractive target for Nikolai," Huang replied. "If we operate under the assumption that he is continuing to monitor the chat room, then we make you look like the perfect mark and wait for him to reveal himself."

Elliot nodded.

Cragen exhaled, looking between his detectives with a furrowed brow. "The dialogue itself may not be enough to snag this guy."

Olivia swallowed, doing her best to quell the ever increasing churning of her stomach.

"Prior to being contacted by Nikolai, Mark posted photographs of Rachel," Huang explained.

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "Cap-" he began. Every fiber of his being was screaming in protest to the entire operation. He wanted to hit something. No – he wanted to stand up and throw his chair through the glass that separated Cragen's office from the squad room. To his credit, while there was a hint of warning in his tone, he was doing his best to remain in control.

Cragen lifted a hand to silence him. "Hold on, Elliot," he said while nodding at Huang to continue.

"While the photos of Rachel were explicit, I don't think that photos of Olivia would have to be. Nikolai is fueled by witnessing acts of domination – it's the struggle that excites him – and while the sexual aspect of this is the ultimate goal, for the purposes of our photos I think all we need to do is show him enough to imply that the rape is occurring." Huang turned to Olivia and clarified in a soothing tone, "We show him pictures of your face, upper body at most. Nothing too revealing," he added trying to placate Elliot whose fists were balled at his sides. "A ripped shirt perhaps; some sort of restraints."

"Enough to leave him wanting more," Olivia said.

She sat with her arms hugging her midsection and Elliot was suddenly struck by how small she appeared. Feeling increasingly powerless to ameliorate the situation, he suppressed what was becoming an almost overwhelming urge to wrap his own arms around her while desperately wracking his brain to try to figure out an appropriate verbal equivalent of the gesture. Thinking that she might feel more comfortable if a female took the photographs, he was about to suggest that Melinda might be willing to do so when Olivia pulled the rug out from underneath him yet again.

"I understand," she said focusing on Cragen. "Elliot and I can take care of this later." Olivia purposefully ignored Elliot's attempts to make eye contact but felt the heat of his gaze.

"In the mean time," Cragen said, "you two should spend some time with Huang to go over your profiles."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Note:_

 _There's a glimmer of E/O on the horizon... ;)_

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

Huang suggested that they move to an adjacent interrogation room to continue their conversation. Olivia kept her eyes fixed on Huang, standing when he did and following closely behind him. Hearing Elliot's footsteps closing in behind her, she quickly thought of a question to ask Huang, effectively preventing Elliot from pulling her aside. She knew that they needed to talk about things, but she needed time to collect herself before they did.

Elliot recognized her stall tactic immediately, and this did nothing to improve his mood. In his mind it only served as further proof that she was _not_ okay with any of this. Fueling his frustration even more was the fact that Huang positioned himself so that he was seated directly across from Olivia, leaving Elliot a spot at the head of the table where it would be incredibly difficult to make eye contact with her. Elliot was not sure whether this had been done intentionally or not, but he had learned never to underestimate Huang's ability to pick up on even the subtlest of nonverbal cues. Elliot settled himself into the chair and did his best to focus on the task at hand as Huang began to go over the details.

Olivia would be Tara Sanders, a victim of prolonged physical and sexual abuse at the hands of her father who turned his attention to her after her mother died of a drug overdose when Tara was nine. Seeing the attention Tara received from the men in their neighborhood as she got older, her father went on to act as her pimp, selling her services as a means to get some extra cash to support his own drug habit. At seventeen Tara ran off with one of the men who promised to protect her, but who only proceeded to perpetuate the cycle of abuse.

Elliot would be Carl Edwards, a man who clawed himself up from a lower socioeconomic status to one of relative affluence, not always by legal means. Powerless to protect himself from the physical abuse he endured as a child, he was prone to having explosive rages, establishing himself as an intimidating presence in adulthood, taking from others what he felt he was owed, often by force. Struck by Tara's beauty when he came across her at a club, he approached her only to be stopped by a man who told him she was not for sale. Carl offered him a lump sum in cash to change his mind. When he still refused, Carl convinced him by alternate means, hauling Tara over the man's bloodied and broken form and out of the club.

Huang explained that Carl could be affectionate and tender with Tara one minute and violent and explosive the next, leaving Tara in a perpetual state of hyper-vigilance and fear. Carl controlled every aspect of Tara's life, from the clothes that she wore to the places she was allowed to go. She was his possession, and with no family or connections to the outside world, she was wholly dependent upon him.

Olivia and Elliot nodded. Sadly they had come across too many stories like these, and although Carl and Tara were fictitious, the people they represented were all too real.

Huang studied the detectives for a moment as they absorbed the information, their eyes focused on random spots of the table but seeing the faces of victims forever etched in their memories. He softly cleared his throat, bringing them back to the present. "I think we need to talk more about the operation itself."

Two pairs of eyes instantly snapped up to meet his.

While in Cragen's office they had gone over the skeleton of the operation, but had skimmed over the gray areas that still needed to be defined. Gray areas that left everyone feeling uncomfortable, including Cragen who had suggested that Huang discuss it with the detectives privately so as not to make them feel put on the spot in front of a commanding officer.

The plan in and of itself was simple enough, but was completely contingent upon Elliot and Olivia's ability to convince Nikolai that they were who he believed them to be. Because they were anticipating that his security would be extensive, they would have to go in unarmed. This was risky, but the potential consequences of being caught trying to smuggle in a weapon were too great to chance it. T.A.R.U. would be equipping them with a couple of small GPS transmitters. They would activate the first one when they reached the club so that Cragen would be able to locate them. They would plant this one somewhere inside, and if all went according to plan, they would be taken to the house where the little girl was being held, and would activate the second. This would be the signal for Cragen to send officers to both locations. If anything went wrong before leaving the club, their instructions were to disable the first transmitter and Cragen would immediately send officers to their last known location.

This brought them back to the shades of gray. Provided they sufficiently sparked Nikolai's interest at the club, if Rachel's statement was a good indication of what they could anticipate, he would make Elliot _earn_ the right to be taken to the little girl.

Elliot and Olivia might as well have been statues.

Huang spoke again. "How far are you both willing to take this?"

Beneath the table Elliot's hands were gripping the seat of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. He shifted his gaze to Olivia who looked pale. Her face remained impassive but for the slight widening of her eyes, and he noticed the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

While Huang had certainly gotten their attention, neither of them made a move to speak. He decided to push a little harder. "Olivia," he said gently, "How far?"

"Christ!" Elliot suddenly exclaimed, shoving his chair back and going to stand by the window. He resented the fact that they were in a position in which they were being forced to answer such a question. He leaned forward on his outstretched arms, gripping the protective bars with all of his strength to prevent himself from punching through the glass.

His outburst startled both Huang and Olivia who jumped slightly as Elliot's voice thundered against the walls of the previously silent room.

Huang waited a few moments as Elliot attempted to collect himself before responding. "I know that this is not an easy conversation, but I think-"

"As far as it takes."

Olivia's voice was barely audible but it caused Elliot to stop breathing.

"I," she paused. Finding courage in the fact that Elliot's back was still turned toward her, her voice grew stronger. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes if it means that we have any chance of finding her."

Huang nodded as he saw the sincerity in her eyes. As much as he was concerned for Olivia, he was equally if not more concerned for Elliot at this moment. It would be Elliot that would have the responsibility of making decisions for both of them in the club. Elliot, who would have to behave in a manner that went against every fiber of his being. Elliot, who would have to ignore the screams of his partner, as Tara, begging for him to stop. "Where does that leave you, Elliot?"

Elliot let out a noise that sounded like a mixture between a strangled cry and a laugh devoid of all humor. He pushed himself back from the window, clasping his hands behind his neck before roughly releasing them and letting his arms fall limply to his sides. "God, I don't know," he replied, shaking his head and turning to face them, this time leaning his back against the wall.

"Olivia, do you trust Elliot?" Huang asked.

Olivia was taken aback by the question and furrowed her brow. "Of course."

"And you, Elliot, do you trust Olivia?"

Elliot looked at Huang with an expression that was equal parts confusion and annoyance. "Of course I do."

"Do you trust her to tell you when there is something she can't handle?"

Elliot faltered. He shifted his weight and locked eyes with Olivia who had looked up at him the moment she realized he didn't have an answer. "I don't know," he responded.

"El-" she protested.

"I don't know," he repeated with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. He turned back to Huang, frustration winning once again. "And what?" he said with an exasperated tone. "What difference does it make anyway since she won't even be able to tell me? Or did you forget?" he snapped. "Nikolai likes the struggle; he _wants_ her to beg me to stop."

One side of Huang's mouth curled into a wry smile. "I didn't forget," he said calmly. "If I could make a suggestion?"

Elliot spread his hands gesturing for Huang to continue.

"I think that you should talk to one another about a safe word."

Olivia chuckled despite herself. The fact that they were even having a discussion about her, Elliot, and a safe word – in the same sentence, no less – was beyond bizarre.

Huang returned her smile. "It may seem anomalous for this type of situation, but I do think it might help."

For his part, Elliot found himself breathing slightly easier at the suggestion. "A way for Liv to let me know if…" he trailed off, unable to voice the thought that he might push Olivia to the point where she would be forced to beg him – Elliot, not Carl – to stop.

Huang nodded. "It should be something that sounds appropriate for the situation so as not to raise any red flags, but something distinctive enough so that Olivia wouldn't run the risk of saying it accidentally."

Olivia looked at Elliot tentatively, as if trying to figure out whether this would be enough.

He swept his eyes over her face, and saw the concern in her eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice gravelly. He would have to trust her to let him know when things were going too far.

* * *

It was close to 10:00pm by the time they reentered the squad room. The nonstop bustle of the past few days had been replaced by an eerie stillness. Elliot and Olivia stood for a moment facing clusters of empty desks whose occupants had finally been permitted to go home. Now that the outcome of the case rested heavily upon their shoulders, the rest of the department was able to return to business as usual. They made their way across the darkened room, their paths illuminated by the soft glow of a few desk lamps that had been forgotten. Elliot reached his desk a moment before Olivia and froze when he saw a small digital camera sitting on top of a note scrawled by Cragen.

Olivia didn't need to read it to know what it said. She felt nauseated and somehow a bit claustrophobic in the large, empty space. She attempted to speak but no sound came out. She cleared her throat. "I'll, um, I'll be right back."

Elliot looked up at her, concerned by the hint of panic in her tone.

She shook her head at him, managing a half smile as she came up with an excuse to leave the room. "I'm just going to go rinse this out," she said by way of explanation, lifting up her mug that contained the remnants of the coffee Elliot had handed her hours ago.

Elliot nodded and watched as she walked away. He sank into his chair, crumpling up Cragen's note and tossing it to the side. Cragen wanted the pictures taken tonight. Munch had been working with T.A.R.U. and had begun posting in the chat room based upon Huang's profile. Thankfully Elliot was being spared that much. He stared at Olivia's empty chair, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on top of the knuckles of his interlocked hands. He ignored the now familiar feelings of dread and fatigue and instead tried to figure out what he could do to make Olivia feel as comfortable as possible. He knew that they couldn't stage this in the crib, because the bunks would seem unusual and make Nikolai suspicious. The thought of taking the photographs at Olivia's place, however, somehow felt like an invasion. His gaze dropped to the collage of pictures of his family that decorated his desk. He knew he was going to have to come clean and give Olivia another option – one that he hadn't thought he was ready to reveal. Then he would let Olivia decide.

* * *

Olivia splashed some cool water on her face and studied her reflection. She looked tired, but felt like the time alone had helped her to regain her composure. She knew that Elliot was struggling with this situation as much as she was, and she didn't want to make things harder on him by appearing unsteady. She turned off the water and smoothed her hands over her hair. She was almost at the door before she remembered the mug – her excuse for coming in there to begin with. She quickly retrieved it and headed back toward the squad room.

Elliot looked up as she approached. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied, setting her mug down on the desk. She decided to remain standing, since she knew sitting would only make her feel more restless. "So, um, how should we do this?" she asked, gesturing to the camera.

Elliot leaned back in his seat with a sigh. "That was going to be my question," he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up in an apologetic smile.

Olivia drummed her fingers against the back of her chair. At this point she just wanted to get this over with. "Well, I guess we should probably head over to my place. We can figure things out from there."

Elliot sat up again. "Liv, about that," he started. "I just," he hesitated trying to find the words to describe his unease. "I don't feel quite right about barging into your space like this."

Olivia looked puzzled. "You've been to my apartment before."

He shook his head. "No, not that. I mean that I don't feel right about taking _these_ there," he replied picking up the camera.

"El, it's okay," she said soothingly.

Elliot braced himself and continued. "I just wanted to let you know, that if it would make you feel more comfortable, we could take the photos at my place."

Olivia's expression flitted from bewilderment to amusement. "El, as much as I love your family, I think this would be a little difficult to explain," she chuckled.

Elliot cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous. "No," he swallowed. "Not at the house… at my apartment."

The silence in the room was deafening.

Olivia's eyes immediately flew to his ring finger where the wedding band continued to gleam back at her. She looked up at him again in confusion. "But-" she began.

He held her gaze as he slowly worked the ring off of his finger. "There were going to be too many questions. I just wasn't ready to broadcast it here," he explained.

Olivia was completely thrown for a loop – again, and was struggling to process this new information. As it began to sink in she felt hurt that he hadn't confided in her. Hurt and a little pissed off. This, combined with her level of exhaustion, caused her to become mostly upset with herself because she now felt the telltale burning behind her eyes that signaled that she was fighting back tears. _"Great,"_ she thought to herself. " _This_ _is_ _what_ _is_ _going_ _to_ _finally_ _push_ _you_ _over_ _the_ _edge?_ _"_ Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to figure out what the hell to say to him.

He watched her struggle with the conflicting emotions and held up his hand, now unadorned, to try to placate her. "I'm sorry," he said as he stood and slowly walked a few paces closer to her. "I'm sorry," he repeated softly. "I should have told you. I was-" he wavered. "The decision was mutual, but I was ashamed," he finished almost inaudibly.

Just like that her anger dissipated. She knew she should say something, but she still had not figured out what that should be and would not have trusted her voice even if she had figured it out.

He waited for her, still standing to her left, the corner of her desk separating them as she fought to regain her composure.

"Why now?" she managed, staring at the ring now lying on his desk.

"You needed to know – especially now." He reached out to touch her arm, but stopped himself, hovering a few inches above it before dropping his hand back to his side. "You said that you trusted me. You agreed to everything tonight and throughout this operation without knowing about this. If you don't feel comfortable-"

She shook her head. "El, I trust you," she said, her eyes darting to his before looking away again as she added, "ring or no ring."

Elliot released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Okay," he nodded.

Olivia gradually remembered what it was that he had been asking her in the first place. He had been trying to protect her as best he could: he did not want her to have to associate her apartment – her personal space – with the photographs they would have to take. At the moment, however, Olivia felt as though she needed to be surrounded by familiar things. She just wanted to go home. She turned to him. "And I appreciate the offer to go elsewhere tonight, but it's really fine."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think I'd rather just go home."

Elliot understood. "Alright," he said. "Are you ready?"

"I've been climbing the walls for hours," she smirked trying to lighten the mood. She had many more questions that she wanted to ask him, but they could wait. That sort of a conversation required more energy than either of them had at the present moment.

Elliot smiled following suit. "You hungry?"

Olivia's stomach was in knots. In fact she was pretty sure that her knots had developed knots of their own. "Ugh, not so much," she replied with a grimace.

"You should eat something," he cautioned. "We'll pick something up along the way."

Olivia rolled her eyes but did not argue with him. She put on her jacket and tossed Elliot his own. Elliot slipped it on, placing the camera in one pocket and his ring in the other, doing his best to try not to think about the task at hand. Olivia turned off her lamp, darkening the room even further, and Elliot fell into step behind her placing a hand ever so lightly on the small of her back as they made their way down the hall and into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Note:_

 _I remember eating, sleeping, and breathing this chapter. As for our favorite detectives, they're starting to figure out that boundaries are tricky things..._

 _Music I listened to while writing part of this chapter was "Cymbal Rush" by Thom Yorke (of Radiohead)._

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

They ended up deciding on Chinese. Elliot held the bags of food while Olivia fumbled with her keys. Her hand trembled slightly as she tried to fit the key in the lock and she wasn't sure whether this was due to nerves, fatigue, or to the fact that she had been functioning purely on caffeine and adrenaline for so many hours. If Elliot noticed, he didn't let on, and waited patiently behind her until the lock clicked open. Once inside, Elliot headed to the kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter and searching for some plates. Truth be told, he wasn't very hungry either, but he figured that the food would serve as a temporary distraction and a bit of a buffer before they were forced to deal with the photos.

Olivia watched Elliot move around her kitchen as though it was his own. Her eyes kept straying to his bare ring finger, and she told herself that she was merely watching him as he opened containers and doled out fried rice for each of them. She wondered how long it had been since he moved out and was wracking her brain to try to pinpoint a moment in time that she had noticed a shift in his mood or demeanor. Certainly the man standing before her now was much different than the one she had faced in the aftermath of his last separation. Throughout that time it had felt as though she was riding a never-ending rollercoaster from one outburst to the next, but now he seemed to be more settled. Then again, she reasoned, he had told her that this time the decision had been mutual.

"You thirsty?" he asked, interrupting her train of thought. He moved to the refrigerator, opening it to find practically empty shelves save for some beer, water, and a carton of milk. He bit his tongue to stop himself from grilling her about her eating habits, but the discovery only served to heighten his level of concern for her well-being. She had looked as though she'd lost some weight since Sealview, and now he was worried about whether she had been eating much of anything at all.

"I'll take a beer," she said. "You might want to steer clear of the milk – not that I think that was your first choice tonight."

He grabbed two beers in one hand and the carton of milk in the other. He slid the bottles along the counter toward Olivia and proceeded to smell the milk somewhat melodramatically, making a face and pouring the contents down the sink. "What, were you attempting to grow cheese?" he asked as he flushed the empty carton with water.

"Yes," she said flatly. "That's exactly it." She rummaged through a drawer until she found a bottle opener, popping the tops off of the beers and carrying them into the living room. She plunked them down on the coffee table before returning to the kitchen to help Elliot bring in the rest of the food.

They both opted to take a seat on the floor at the foot of the couch since it made it easier to work with the height of the coffee table. Somehow Elliot ended up sitting to her right, and Olivia was convinced that it was fate's way of continually taunting her by bringing her ever closer to his left hand. She took several large swallows of her beer hoping that her empty stomach would encourage the alcohol to work quickly to calm her nerves. Her palms were sweaty and it had nothing to do with the photos they had yet to take and everything to do with the fact that it was finally starting to sink in that she was sitting next to her unattached partner. _"_ _Partner,_ _"_ she repeated to herself. Partner as in coworker – as in still off-limits. She wiped her palms on her thighs in a brief motion she hoped Elliot would attribute to ridding her hands of the condensation from her beer. She picked up her fork intending to focus on her meal, however she ended up doing little more than pushing her food around her plate, occasionally remembering to take a bite; occasionally remembering to chew and swallow.

Olivia was fidgeting. Olivia was fidgeting more than Elliot had ever witnessed her fidget in all of their years together. Throughout their anxiety-producing conversations with Cragen and Huang, Olivia had barely blinked, let alone moved, and yet now he was lucky if she was able to remain still for a few consecutive seconds at a time. He finished chewing his mouthful while he watched out of the corner of his eye as she repeatedly tapped and moved her fork around her plate, pushing and patting her rice into little hills before demolishing them and starting the process all over again.

"Liv," he said, simultaneously reaching over to cover her right hand with his left to still her frenetic movements.

Olivia froze and almost choked on her mouthful of chicken and broccoli.

"You're making me nervous." He bowed his head trying to make eye contact with her, but her wide-eyed gaze remained locked on the hand that covered hers. He waited for a moment before releasing his grasp, slowly bringing his hand back to rest on his side of the table.

She swallowed. "Sorry," she murmured, setting her fork down and running her hand through her hair.

He took a swig of his beer before turning slightly toward her and saying, "You know, it's okay – you can ask me."

"I-" she paused, shocked that he was actually inviting her to ask questions, and initially prepared to play dumb. Realizing that it was pointless to pretend that she didn't know to what he was referring, she managed to add, "Oh."

" _I_ _…_ _oh,_ _"_ she thought to herself, _"_ _excellent_ _command_ _of_ _the_ _English_ _language._ _"_

Elliot rarely saw Olivia flustered he noted, suppressing a smile. It was rather adorable. He attempted to offer her some additional reassurance. "I'm not going to bite your head off or accuse you of prying. You have a right to know, and I promise I'll answer you as honestly as I can."

She reached for her beer, taking another sip before balancing the bottle on her knee, doing her best to refrain from picking at the label. "Okay," she breathed. "How long?"

He nodded his acceptance of the question. "A couple of months," he responded.

"And," she hesitated. "You're okay?"

Elliot traced the neck of his beer bottle with his index finger and thumb, creating paths between the beads of moisture that had accumulated along the exterior. "It had run its course," he replied thoughtfully. "After Eli, we both wanted to make a concerted effort to work on things. Our marriage was…" he trailed off searching for the right words. When he continued, he spoke slowly, looking off into the distance as though seeing fragments of his past.

"We were so young when Maureen happened, and after twenty some-odd years, our marriage sort of encompassed our entire adult lives up until this point. The marriage, our family – it became how we defined ourselves. Even when it became clear that the good aspects of 'us' had been irrevocably eroded by years spent avoiding issues and cultivating resentment, disappointment… Even then I think the fear of _not_ having that made us even more desperate to cling to what we knew. In the end, I think we each got to the point where we realized that we didn't have the energy to keep up the façade any longer." He inhaled, the breath drawing him back into the present as he turned his head to look at Olivia. His eyes shone with emotion as he said, "It was time."

Olivia held his gaze, momentarily overcome by his candor. Elliot rarely divulged any details about his personal life and she was taken aback by his sudden willingness to share so much of himself with her. Eventually she dropped her gaze, tracing the mouth of her bottle with the pad of her thumb.

Elliot saw her struggling with a question that she was not sure if she should ask. "Liv?" he coaxed.

"El, would you have… if it weren't for this case," she paused. "I mean, I get that you needed time, and that you didn't want to broadcast it at work. I guess I just wanted to ask you…" she trailed off tentatively, afraid that the question would make him defensive. She wasn't used to the Elliot that sat and spoke calmly with her about his feelings. She was used to the Elliot that lashed out and pushed her away whenever she hit a nerve. She had been hurt that he had concealed the truth from her, especially after everything they had been through in the past. He must have known that she would never have said anything about it to anyone else, and the fact that he still had not confided in her made her wonder why he hadn't wanted her to know.

He tucked a finger under her chin and gently lifted her head to face him. "I would have told you, Liv," he said earnestly, letting his hand fall away. "I wanted to tell you. I just…." Now it was his turn to feel uneasy about her response, and he did his best to choose his words carefully. "A lot has happened recently, and I didn't want to add to your list of concerns." He wanted to say, _"_ _I_ _know_ _you_ _have_ _been_ _through_ _a_ _lot,_ _and_ _I_ _'_ _ve_ _been_ _worried_ _about_ _you,"_ but felt as though given the circumstances, tonight would not be the night to try to break through her defenses. As it was he felt that he was wading into dangerous waters.

"You should have told me," she said quietly, her tone a mixture of hurt and of warning.

That was as far as he was going to push. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you."

She recognized that he was granting her the space she'd silently requested and was grateful for his understanding. "I'm glad that you told me now."

Elliot nodded. He felt better having had the opportunity to clear the air a bit, but at the same time did not want to linger on the topic and was ready for the focus to be off of him. He swished the remainder of his beer around in the bottle and finished it in one swallow. "So uh," he gestured to her plate, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his eyes, "Are you done decimating this?"

Olivia wrinkled up her nose and launched her napkin at his head. He laughed and easily deflected it with his arm.

"Yes," she hissed, narrowing her eyes.

"Just checking," he responded innocently, stacking her plate on top of his and carrying both into the kitchen.

Olivia decided to remain seated. She smiled and shook her head when she heard him turn on the faucet – if Elliot Stabler was doing the dishes, he must be as desperate as she was to avoid the true purpose of his visit. She gulped down the rest of her beer, wondering how many different extremes of emotions a person could experience in one day without having some sort of mental breakdown.

As quickly as it came, the amusement she felt at their last exchange ebbed away, once again leaving her feeling hollow and apprehensive. It was awkward enough for her and Elliot to have to enact such a situation, but the thought of being put on display for God knows how many sets of leering eyes made her feel incredibly vulnerable. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top of them.

Elliot emerged from the kitchen after a few minutes, drying his hands on a dishtowel. His hands stilled as he took in her appearance and he turned to toss the towel onto the counter before approaching. "Hey," he said quietly, doing his best not to startle her. "You okay?"

Olivia raised her head. "Yeah," she lied. "It's been a long day."

Elliot nodded warily.

"I think I just want to get this over with."

"I know," he lamented, stuffing his hands in his pockets and waiting to follow her lead.

Olivia took a deep breath and stood, crossing her arms over her chest as she made her way past him toward the hallway, gesturing for him to follow with an incline of her head. Elliot decided to leave his jacket in the other room for the time being until they had figured out how they were going to proceed. His priority was to do whatever he could to make Olivia feel as comfortable as possible, and he would only return for the camera when he felt she was ready.

"My, um, my bedroom is here," she said, pushing open a door on the left-hand side of the hall. She flicked on the light switch, basking the room in a soft amber glow. She rubbed her hands along her arms, fighting away the goose bumps that had arisen as the light brought the bed into full view. She made her way to the center of the room, stopping halfway between the foot of the bed and her dresser before turning to regard Elliot who continued to lean against the doorframe.

"It's okay," she said, "You can come in."

Every muscle in Elliot's body was tense. It was _no_ _t_ okay. None of this was.

Elliot had not budged and she could practically see the anger rippling off of him in waves. "El?" she asked timidly. She knew that his anger was not directed at her, but it still shook her to see the intensity of his rage.

Her question permeated his thoughts as he belatedly realized how he must have been coming across. "Sorry," he rasped, drawing his palm along his jaw. "I, uh-"

Olivia shook her head at him, indicating that there was no need for him to apologize.

He nodded, pushing himself off the doorframe and slowly coming to sit on the edge of her bed.

Olivia leaned back to perch on her dresser, feeling shaky and looking everywhere but at Elliot.

Elliot looked up at her, concern etched in his features. "What can I do?" he asked.

Olivia raised a trembling hand to brush her bangs out of her eyes. "I don't know," she breathed. She felt overwhelmed and on the verge of tears. She didn't know what she needed from Elliot. She was frustrated at herself for being unable to appear stronger for him, and too tired to be able to think clearly about what their next step should be.

Elliot watched her internal struggle and decided to take over. "Okay," he said evenly. "Let's try to break this down like any other assignment. What do we need?"

Olivia understood what Elliot was trying to do and was grateful for it. By breaking it down they would have a better chance at getting past the emotional aspects of the assignment, which would help each of them to feel more in control.

She cleared her throat. "Okay," she exhaled. "So, this guy wants to see a struggle. We can take the photos in stages."

Elliot nodded. "Huang suggested restraints, which, uh," his voice cracked slightly, "I think we have covered." He reached behind him to pull out the thin black case from his back pocket. He looked somewhat uneasily at Olivia in attempts to gauge her reaction while he slid the case to the side.

Olivia flushed, looking between him and the handcuffs. "Um, right," she said trying to ignore the hammering in her chest.

" _Keep_ _moving,_ _Benson,_ _"_ she told herself.

"D-do you think that we should use some sort of gag? Tape or uh, something?"

Elliot furrowed his brow as he envisioned Olivia's lips, red and raw as he removed the tape from her mouth. "No tape," Elliot shook his head. He glanced around the room searching for a less abrasive substitute, when he remembered his tie. "Here," he said, pulling on the knot to loosen it. "We can use this."

Olivia watched as he pulled it over his head and placed it on top of the cuffs.

Elliot studied her for a moment as she stared at the objects on her comforter. She was chewing slightly on her lower lip and he hated himself for having to continually augment her level of discomfort.

"Liv, how do you want us to deal with the other piece of this?" he asked, skirting around the issue.

She looked up at him wearily, but tried to reassure him with an attempt at some wry humor. "I'm not letting you rip this shirt – I happen to like it," she said, cocking an eyebrow.

Elliot breathed a laugh. "Fine," he said, "and you expect me to believe that you actually own something that you _wouldn'_ _t_ mind me destroying?"

Olivia shot him a dirty look. "I'm sure I can find something," she deadpanned, moving to palm through the selection of tops hanging in her closet. Eventually her hand stilled on a midnight blue, long-sleeve, Henley top. She liked it, but it wasn't irreplaceable. The shirt was form fitting and slightly sheer, and the trail of four buttons created a natural spot for Elliot to tear it further. Olivia didn't allow the thought to linger, but pulled the shirt from the hanger and turned to face him.

"I stand corrected," he said.

His words continued their earlier banter, but were unable to mask his apprehension. The garment dangling loosely from Olivia's grasp represented the final piece of the puzzle and brought them to the moment that they had so desperately sought to avoid. Olivia's eyes locked on his, and the intensity of emotion she saw reflected there took her breath away. Time stood still as they silently communicated the trepidation, remorse, and compassion that neither was able to put into words – each yearning for a way to alleviate the pain of the other.

It was Olivia who ultimately broke the spell, drawing upon every last ounce of her strength to tear her eyes from his as she whispered, "I'll go change."

Elliot watched her as she walked away and heard the soft click of the bathroom door as she pulled it closed behind her. He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. He was physically and mentally drained from the events of the past few days, and was terrified beyond belief of the consequences of putting Olivia through further duress. She was still fragile from whatever the hell had happened to her in that godforsaken prison, and he had no way of knowing what might push her over the edge.

Elliot knew that Olivia continued to struggle in the aftermath. She had been spending more nights in the crib than in her own apartment – not that Elliot would let on that he was aware of this. He figured that she felt safer in the precinct and, to be honest, he felt better knowing she was there as well. The first couple of times that she had gone home Elliot had spent the night parked across the street from her apartment. She had kept her bedroom light on, and he doubted she had been able to get much sleep. Elliot wanted to try to help her through this, but both times he had broached the topic Olivia had responded that she was "fine." He knew better than to press her for the time being, but hoped that she would eventually trust him enough to open up to him. _"_ _Trus_ _t,"_ he thought apprehensively. Would she ever be able to trust him again after this? He inwardly groaned as he realized that tonight would actually be the easy part in comparison to what they would have to undergo if they made it to the club.

He forced himself to stand and retrieve the camera from the other room. He saw his keychain on the counter and quickly remembered to take the key to the handcuffs, sliding it off of the ring and placing it in his pocket. When he returned, he paused to take in his surroundings. There had been countless times that he had had to call Olivia in the middle of the night to tell her they were needed at a crime scene, and despite the best of intentions his mind had often conjured up images of what she might look like – hair tousled, an arm splayed overhead – as the call roused her from her slumber. Now standing in her bedroom, he realized that what he had visualized in terms of the room itself was not too far removed from reality. He reasoned that after more than a decade of partnership, it wasn't surprising. The room suited her.

His eyes came to rest on a couple of small picture frames on her nightstand. One contained a photograph of a young Olivia with Serena. Olivia looked about seven years old and was clutching a stick of cotton candy with a broad grin as Serena smiled down at her, her arm around Olivia's shoulders. Lights from a Ferris wheel gleamed in the background, and Elliot surmised that it must have been taken at Coney Island. He found the image bittersweet, as he knew that it encapsulated one of the few happy memories of her childhood.

He picked up the other frame and saw that it contained a photo from the night that they had all gone out for a drink to celebrate Munch's birthday a few years ago. Elliot and Olivia sat side by side in the middle of the corner booth, pushed closely together as Fin, Munch, Cragen, and Casey squeezed in to fit in the photo. Elliot's arm was draped around her, and everyone looked happy and relaxed. Elliot smiled in reminiscence. It had been one of the rare occasions in which they had been permitted to let their guards down. He replaced the frame, his smile fading as he realized that this was the last time that he could remember seeing Olivia appear completely at ease.

As if on cue, he heard Olivia reenter the room and turned to find her haunted eyes peering back at him.

"Hey," he said, stepping away from the nightstand.

"Snooping through my things?" she asked, once again trying to ease the tension.

"Well, I _am_ a detective," he shrugged. "I remember that night," he continued gesturing to the frame. "It was nice."

"Yeah," she replied. "It was."

It had been nice to be able to spend time with the gang outside of work, although the bits and pieces she remembered from the occasion largely centered upon the feel of Elliot's side next to hers, the weight of his arm around her shoulders, and the rumble of his laugh as Fin cracked jokes about doing his part for charity by agreeing to remain partnered with the elderly. She had also been acutely aware of Cragen's presence that night, hoping that he would attribute any shift in body language or the way in which she looked at her partner to the combination of the alcohol and the relaxed atmosphere of the evening. Fin had given her a copy of the photo a week later, and it was all that Olivia could do to prevent herself from cropping the image to center on her and Elliot. Now that Elliot was standing in her room, she was eternally grateful that she had resisted temptation.

She looked down at the camera he held in his hand, feeling slightly queasy.

He took a small step toward her, his brows knit in concern. "You ready?" he asked tentatively.

She nodded somewhat unconvincingly. "We should, um, maybe mess up the bed a little." This was not the time for hospital corners. She mechanically handed him the cuffs and tie and tossed her throw pillows to the side. Elliot helped her to pull back her comforter so that they were left with the sheets and standard pillows.

"Okay," she breathed. "H-how do you want me?" The question might have otherwise been jarring or embarrassing or a combination of the two but, as it was, the only emotion that either of them felt was unease.

He reached for her hand. "Why don't you come and lie back here." His voice was low and soothing as he led her to the side of the bed.

She sat down, and after a slight hesitation lowered herself so that she lay on her back, her legs draped over the edge and her feet brushing the floor. They had not even truly begun, and she already felt incredibly vulnerable. She looked up at Elliot who towered above her, trusting him to take care of her.

He set the cuffs and the tie down on her dresser and stood before her with only the camera in his hand. "So we'll start off slowly, okay?"

Olivia nodded, her fingers nervously gripping the edge of the mattress.

"We can take shots in a few different ways, escalating a bit each time, and then we can let Huang decide which ones to post."

Olivia nodded again, knowing that her voice would crack if she attempted to speak.

"Can you put your arms back a little?"

She bent her arms at the elbows, resting the backs of her forearms on either side of her head with her palms facing toward him.

"Okay," he swallowed. "I'm just going to put my hand over your mouth." His inflection made the statement a question, determined to check in with her each step of the way.

He leaned forward and placed his left hand over her mouth, putting enough weight into it to make it look as though he were pinning her head down without actually causing her harm. He lifted his right hand, angling the camera toward her.

Olivia nodded slightly under his palm, transforming her expression into one of fear and of pleading as he took the first picture.

He immediately released her. Although he knew that Olivia's expression had been for the benefit of the camera, the thought of what they were simulating weighed heavily upon him. The idea that he could ever be responsible for such an assault shook him to his core. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she whispered.

He forced himself to continue. "Alright, so we'll do a couple more. This time I'll put my hand on your throat, and maybe you can bring your hands up to mine like you're fighting me."

He brought his left hand back to encircle her throat, and she moved her hands to grasp his wrist as if struggling to pull his arm away. As he raised the camera to ready the shot, he tensed his arm and squeezed the hand around her throat slightly to give the illusion of a stranglehold. Olivia tightened her hands around his wrist to make her knuckles turn white as she once again changed her expression to appear panicked and as if she were gasping for air. Elliot took the second shot. This time instead of releasing her he used his camera hand to gently nudge her head to the right, staging it to appear as if her head were being wrenched to the side. He took another photo. Momentarily easing his grasp, he suggested that they take a couple as Olivia thrashed from side to side, since he thought that it would appear more realistic if they captured some blurred motion. Olivia agreed and he took two more.

Elliot released her again. "Do you need to take a break?" he asked.

Olivia shook her head. "I'm okay."

Elliot suggested that she roll to her left side as though she were trying to escape. Olivia did so, facing the head of the bed with her left arm underneath her and her right arm reaching out in front of her. Olivia shivered as Elliot reached out and brushed his hand gently over her chestnut waves. "I'm just going to make it look like I'm grabbing you by your hair," he explained.

Olivia nodded as he raked his fingers through it and took a handful, keeping his hand pressed closely against her skull. As he prepared to take the photo Olivia used her right hand to clutch at the mattress while she arched slightly upward to make it appear as though Elliot were yanking her head back. They took a couple of shots in this position, being careful to include some blurry ones to preserve the illusion of a struggle.

Even though Elliot released her, Olivia made sure to stay more or less in the same position because they were doing their best to make the series of photographs look like a continuous progression. She was still on her left side, but angled diagonally with her head toward the pillows and her right leg and arm slightly out from her body as if trying to wriggle away from him. Knowing that it would make more of an impact for the photos to show more of her face, Elliot decided that he was going to have to flip her over onto her back again. However, now that she was further on the bed it would mean that he would no longer be able to remain standing.

Elliot swallowed. "Liv," he said slowly, "I…um, in order to flip you over I'm going to need to straddle you."

Olivia's breathing quickened and she fought to control it long enough to murmur her assent.

Elliot went to collect the cuffs and the tie, moving them to the nightstand so that he would be able to reach them when needed. Olivia felt the mattress dip as he came to brace his arms and legs on either side of her. Once steady, he pushed himself up to balance his weight his knees, doing his best to hover above her while making as little contact with her body as possible.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, El," she exhaled shakily.

He reached his left arm across her body to take hold of her right wrist. "You ready?"

Olivia nodded and tensed her arm, grasping onto the sheet and preparing to put up some resistance to his efforts to turn her. Elliot readied the camera, taking a series of quick shots as he tugged at her arm and flipped her over. The momentum of the action caused him to shift closer to her, as he pitched forward on the arm that held Olivia's wrist. Olivia was now flat on her back in the center of the bed, her head just below her pillows. The rotation of her lower body had inadvertently caused Elliot's left leg to slip and he was now completely straddling her hips, his knee pinning her left hand to her side. Neither was prepared for the increased contact.

Olivia's chest rose and fell quickly beneath him, the adrenaline mixing with another feeling she dared not put a name to.

"Sorry," he gasped, attempting to shift his weight to put some more space between them.

Olivia shook her head, trying to communicate that he had done nothing wrong.

Elliot misinterpreted her meaning. "Liv, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"El, I'm fine," she replied, finding her voice. "It's okay – really," she added when he continued to look at her with concern.

Eventually he nodded, shutting his eyes to collect himself before they continued. "Liv, I hate to do this, but we should probably start to use these," he said gesturing to the objects on the nightstand.

Olivia chewed on the inside of her cheeks. "I know," she said softly.

"If I'm supposed to keep taking pictures, I should probably try to restrain you," he continued.

Olivia glanced from the handcuffs back to him before nodding almost imperceptibly.

Elliot reached over to extract the cuffs from their case, placing them beside him. He waited until Olivia nodded once again before he brought her right wrist to him, fitting the cool metal around her skin. Olivia flinched as it clicked into place.

"Is it too tight?" Elliot asked with concern.

Olivia shook her head, unable to form words. Her heart had started to pound so quickly she heard it thundering in her head. Her mouth was dry and she felt as if she couldn't breathe in enough air. Elliot placed her arm over her head and worked the other side of the cuffs around the wrought iron headboard. Metal clanged against metal, the sound ringing in Olivia's ears. Something was wrong. Terrified, Olivia lay frozen while the room seemed to close in around her. Whimpers from an earlier time echoed within her.

 _No,_ _no,_ _no_ _…_

Elliot enclosed her left wrist in the other bracelet and something inside Olivia broke. She gasped for breath, pulling against her restraints.

 _Help_ _me!_

"Liv?" Elliot said in alarm, his eyes searching her face for some sign of recognition.

Olivia didn't respond. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears as she realized that she was completely helpless.

 _You_ _bite_ _me_ _and_ _you'_ _re_ _dead._

"Liv!" he tried again to no avail. He hurriedly moved to release her, freeing each hand and pulling her up into an embrace. "Liv, talk to me," he pleaded.

Tears spilled out over her cheeks as she trembled in his arms, silent sobs wracking her body.

"Shhh, shhh," Elliot soothed against her temple, cupping the back of her head with his palm and rocking her back and forth. He continued to hold her until her sobs gradually subsided and Olivia lay limply against him.

"S-sorry," she hiccupped. "I'm s-so sorry."

The pain in her voice tortured him. "No, Liv. You have nothing to be sorry about. It's my fault, I-"

"No!" she exclaimed pulling away to look at him with sorrow-filled eyes. "Please don't blame yourself. I didn't know… I never know…" she trailed off staring at a random point on his shirt.

"You never know what?"

She shook her head.

"What don't you know, Liv?" he coaxed gently.

Her chin quivered. She felt ashamed for having broken down in front of him and felt the need to offer him some sort of explanation. "I um, I never know what will trigger me to uh… I've been having… I mean, sometimes I feel like I'm back _t_ _here_ _,_ " she managed.

Elliot pulled her back into his arms.

"He, um," she sniffed. "I was handcuffed to the d-door and I couldn't… I was trapped."

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut at the image. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there," he rasped. He would have killed the bastard. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes and cupped her face with his hands. "Liv, I don't want to push," he began.

Olivia shook her head. "Nothing happened. He wanted me to, um…" she couldn't bring herself to voice the words, so she added, "but Fin got there in time."

" _Just_ _barely,"_ Elliot thought angrily.

"Nothing even happened," she berated herself for her weakness.

"Liv, what you went through was not 'nothing' – he assaulted you," he said evenly.

"Yeah, well…" she shrugged dismissively.

"Olivia, you were assaulted," he repeated firmly. "Liv, are you talking to anybody about this?"

"Cragen wanted me to talk to Huang, but I requested to talk to somebody else," she said.

"And?" Elliot asked.

" _And_ , I talked to her," she said with a tinge of frustration. "But I didn't mention the flashbacks," she confessed.

Elliot sighed. Olivia had intentionally requested somebody else, because she knew that Huang would see through her attempts to mislead him.

"El, please don't tell," she pleaded. "I promise I'll go to Huang later, but I can't be taken off of this case. If something happens to that little girl because I wasn't there…"

"Liv, look at what this is doing to you! _I_ can't do this to you. God knows what might happen at the club!"

"El, please! I'm fine, really. I'm sorry I broke down, but I'm also working on zero sleep right now," she rationalized. "And after the past few days… I just – it all caught up to me."

Elliot felt torn. He didn't believe for one second that she was okay, but at the same time he knew that it would kill her to be taken off of the case. And if, as she said, something _did_ go wrong, and she hadn't been allowed to do her job, the long-term emotional impact of that loss might be even greater than the repercussions brought about by the undercover operation itself.

"This is a bad idea," he warned.

With those words, Olivia knew that Elliot wasn't going to betray her confidence – at least for the time being. "Thank you," she sighed in relief.

As the intensity of the conversation died down, it gradually dawned on each of them that although Elliot was sitting back on his heels, he remained propped over Olivia, her legs beneath him. Elliot cleared his throat, "Sorry," he said, shifting to move off of her.

"No, El," she said, her hand stilling his movements. "We need to finish this."

He shook his head. "Liv, let's just bring what we have to Huang. It might be enough," he bargained.

"You know that it's not," she said simply. "El, I know that I didn't exactly make this easy on you tonight, but I promise you I can handle this."

His eyes softened. "Liv, you did not _do_ anything to make this hard for me. This _is_ hard – on both of us, and it isn't going to get any easier."

Olivia nodded.

Elliot held her gaze. "Just please, please, promise me that you will tell me if you need me to stop."

"I promise," she said.

"We're not using the handcuffs," he said resolutely.

"El," she protested.

"No. We can use the tie as a restraint."

Olivia found her strength again in the battle of wills. "El, you know as well as I do that that tie wouldn't be able to hold me." The material was slick and Olivia was one hell of a fighter.

God she was stubborn. "I'll have you know I was an Eagle Scout," he replied with a devilish glint in his eye.

Olivia didn't bite, although she flushed slightly at the implications of what that might mean in other circumstances. "Carl wasn't," she replied evenly.

Elliot sighed through his nose. The panic he had seen in Olivia's eyes a few minutes ago had frightened him, and now knowing what he did he was loath to reenact this part of her very real trauma.

Olivia made the decision for him, reaching for the cuffs and enclosing her left wrist in the first bracelet. "What good is a cop who's afraid of a set of handcuffs?" she quipped, though the way she licked her lips betrayed her nervousness.

"Alright," he said, drawing a hand down the back of his head in a defeated gesture. He picked up the camera and scrolled through the preview screen to find the last photograph taken. He did his best to ignore the guttural reaction elicited by seeing the images of Olivia's simulated assault, and tried to focus on the physical position in which she was lying in their last shot. "Okay," he exhaled, "can you lie back for me?"

Olivia did so and Elliot helped to indicate where to lay her head. Olivia took a deep breath and lifted her arms over her head so that Elliot wouldn't have to. Elliot locked eyes with her as he leaned forward, slowly weaving the chain around headboard once more. "You ready, Liv?" he asked. "You tell me the moment you want these off and they're gone, okay?"

"Okay."

He snapped the metal into place, all the while maintaining eye contact with her.

Better prepared this time, Olivia still felt a twinge of anxiety at the perceived helplessness, but reminded herself that the loss of control was only an illusion because Elliot was giving her the power to stop at a moment's notice. More than anything, Olivia's shortness of breath this time was caused by Elliot's proximity to her as he hovered by her wrists, his arms on either side of her head. She nodded up at him, signaling that it was okay for him to continue.

He pushed himself back, murmuring an apology as he slowly lowered himself to once again straddle her hips, doing his best to support most of his weight in his thighs. He picked up the camera, unsure of the best way to proceed.

"El," Olivia said quietly, "I'm going to pull a bit on the cuffs so that my wrists get red. It's not believable otherwise," she continued.

Elliot did not like this suggestion but Olivia had already started to pull and twist her wrists against the restraints.

She arched her head back trying to see whether her efforts were having their intended effect, but the pillows obstructed her view. "El, you're gonna have to help me out here and let me know when it's good enough."

"Okay," he said after a few moments. "That should be enough."

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically. "You're not just saying that?"

"No. They're good enough, Liv."

She tugged against them a couple of more times for good measure, still not convinced that what he was saying was entirely accurate. "Okay," she said.

Elliot raised the camera taking a few pictures as Olivia struggled against the restraints, being sure to include his knees in each shot so that it would be clear that he was on top of her. Olivia stilled as he lowered the camera with a furrowed brow. She ignored the throbbing in her wrists and gave him a questioning look.

"I'm not so sure about the gag, Liv," he said. "I need for you to be able to talk to me." Watching Olivia struggle beneath him was more than taking its toll on his psyche. He knew that they each had parts to play, but it was becoming harder and harder to separate fiction from reality, especially now that Olivia's eyes were somewhat red from crying.

"El, I'm okay, really," she said, concealing her own anxiety in attempts to allay his fears. "I'll still be able to communicate with you."

He smiled sadly. Even now, bound and defenseless before him, _she_ was trying to reassure _him_.

"Let me see if I can fix this in a way that will let me check in with you," he replied.

"Okay," she said.

He reached for the tie, leaning forward to ease it underneath Olivia's head. She did her best to control her breathing. It wasn't that she was afraid of Elliot – she trusted him more than anyone, yet the prospect of having yet another line of defense taken away from her, even temporarily, was unnerving.

Elliot loosely wound it around her a couple of times, before carefully pulling on the ends. Olivia opened her mouth slightly, allowing him to tighten it so it rested between her teeth. Not satisfied, Elliot made some adjustments, eventually coming up with a way to twist the part of the fabric in her mouth to make it appear constricting, while actually affording enough slack to permit him to remove it without undoing it completely.

"Is that okay?" he asked.

Olivia nodded.

Elliot shifted back, raising the camera to take a couple of shots like this, stalling a bit because he did not want to escalate the scene further.

Olivia noticed his hesitation, and also noted that he had intentionally refrained from touching her in the photos taken since her breakdown. She cleared her throat softly to get his attention.

He immediately pulled the tie out of her mouth. "Liv?" he asked, scanning her face.

"El, I appreciate what you're trying to do," she began, "but sooner or later you're gonna have to touch me." Olivia paused and took a deep breath before adding shakily, "And not just on my neck."

Elliot closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. When he reopened them they stared unfocused at her collarbone.

She watched the turmoil swirling in the blue depths. "You're not doing anything wrong," she whispered.

At that his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Like hell he wasn't. This whole damned thing was wrong.

She looked at him sympathetically. "I know what you're thinking, and I get it," she placated. "I'm just trying to tell you that I'm okay." Really she was doing more than that. She was offering up blanket consent, giving him permission to do whatever he needed to do in the hopes that it would alleviate some of his guilt.

Elliot was aware of what she was attempting to do, but it did little to ease his conscience.

Olivia waited as he silently did battle with himself, and saw the moment that his expression changed from one of remorse to that of determination.

The longer that he delayed, the longer it would prolong things for Olivia, and Elliot wanted the process to be over with as soon as possible. "Okay," he said gruffly. "We'll just try to do this part as quickly as possible." As an afterthought he added hastily, "Liv, your wrists must be killing you. Do you need a break?"

"No," she shook her head. Her wrists and arms protested, but they were well on their way to becoming numb and she knew that they would only feel worse once the blood returned to them. "I'm fine. Let's just keep going."

Elliot nodded and carefully replaced the gag. This time as he readied the camera, he reached out to put his hand once again around the column of her throat. "Liv, I'm going to take several different shots, and each time I move my hand I want you to tell me by nodding or shaking your head whether or not you're okay."

His voice sounded stronger, as though he was finding a way to detach himself somewhat from his emotions in order to take control of the situation. Whereas Olivia had been able to find her strength in his moment of need, she now found herself feeling timid in the face of his newfound self-assurance. Olivia swallowed and nodded, wondering if he could feel her pulse racing underneath the gentle pressure of his palm.

He tightened his grasp and braced himself for the inevitable pang of nausea he felt each time she transformed her expression for the camera. This time was no different. He forced himself to continue in spite of the visceral reaction brought about by the sight of the pain and pleading in her eyes as she looked up at him. He took a couple of photos before easing his grasp, giving her a moment to collect herself. He trailed his hand lower, flattening his palm just beneath her collarbone.

Olivia nodded her assent.

He added tension once again, his fingertips curling into the hollows along her throat and digging slightly into her flesh. While the end result looked like he was applying a great deal of pressure, in actuality his touch was firm yet gentle. Olivia tensed her neck to add to the appearance of a struggle and Elliot took some more photos. Relaxing his hand he waited again before moving it lower, hovering above the neckline of her shirt. He maintained eye contact with her as he hooked his fingers underneath the fabric. He paused realizing that Olivia was breathing rapidly, but she nodded for him to continue. He made a fist, bunching the material while he pulled it down to reveal a greater expanse of skin. Olivia arched back, pulling at the restraints as he took the next couple of shots.

She stilled as he lowered the camera, placing it beside him on the mattress. His hand loosened its hold on her shirt slightly as he contemplated his next move. He stared down at the sheer fabric in his hand, knowing that it would easily split with only a minimum of effort. He lifted his eyes to meet Olivia's once more. It was clear that she had followed his train of thought, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt as if they both needed to take another step before they could cross that threshold. He released his grasp, holding her gaze as he slowly brought his hand over to rest on her breast.

Olivia was trying every relaxation trick in the book in an effort to control her breathing. She was failing miserably. In fact every attempt she made to slow it down only seemed to backfire. What was worse was that with her arms bound overhead, there was nothing she could do to conceal it. She felt a flush creep across her face and she shut her eyes in a desperate attempt to hide from Elliot in the only way she could manage.

"Liv?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She realized that he was waiting for her to give him some indication of whether she was okay. She nodded, but did not open her eyes.

He raised his right hand to cup her cheek. "Liv?" he repeated.

Her eyes fluttered open at the contact. She had been somewhat frightened at the prospect of what she might find reflected back at her, but Elliot's gaze was pure empathy.

"Is this okay?" he asked huskily, acutely aware of the rise and fall of her chest beneath his palm.

She nodded again and he removed his hand from her cheek, picking up the camera once more. As he readied the shot, he closed his left hand further around her, pushing up slightly so that he caused the curve of her breast to become more evident above the neckline of her shirt. Olivia twisted her face into a grimace, making it seem as if he were squeezing her to the point of pain, as he took the next couple of pictures.

He released her, setting the camera down and resting his hands on his thighs. "You ready?" he asked.

This was it.

She nodded, trembling slightly as he slowly moved his hands to grasp the fabric of her shirt at the point where the buttons ended along her breastbone. Looking only at her eyes, he pulled decisively, ripping the material completely in half. Before she could even process the feeling of the air hitting her bare skin, it was gone. Wanting to give Olivia time to adjust, Elliot had taken both sides of her now destroyed shirt and was holding them together to cover her. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was for his consideration, but did not want him to get the wrong idea if she uttered a sound to get his attention. Elliot was studying her face so carefully he must have discerned some small change in her expression, because he reached up to pull the tie from her mouth.

Olivia's voice wavered a little as she said, "I just wanted to say thank you for, um," she glanced down at the hand that held her shirt securely around her, "for giving me a sec," she finished.

He nodded his understanding. "You just tell me when you're ready," he said. While he waited for her, he attempted to envision the best way to arrange her shirt so that it would offer her the most coverage possible while still revealing enough for their purposes.

"Okay, El," she said.

"Alright," he began, "I'm going to try to figure out the best way to do this. If it's okay with you, I think we should probably still take photos that escalate bit by bit, and then we can talk to Huang tomorrow and make sure we're in agreement on which ones to post." He wanted to reassure her that she'd have a say in the matter, regardless of which shots Huang recommended. "Do you want me to keep the gag out for the time being?"

Olivia shook her head. This was one of those times that she would rather not rely on her voice. "No, that's okay. It'll be easier if you don't have to stop to put it in for each shot."

"Okay," he agreed. He carefully twisted and replaced the tie in her mouth. For the first time since he had torn her shirt, Elliot permitted his gaze to fall to her chest. He picked up the pieces, mimicking the action he had used to tear it, and let the material fall. His mouth went dry as Olivia's black lace clad breasts came into full view. Olivia was breathing rapidly, and Elliot closed his eyes to stave off what was threatening to become an incredibly ill-timed physiological response to the sight before him.

Elliot had never been blind to Olivia's beauty, but it was not something that he had allowed himself to think about for any length of time, for obvious reasons. Yet now he was most keenly aware of the woman lying beneath him. She was stunning.

" _Sealview,_ _Sealview,_ _Sealview,"_ he repeated to himself. It had only been a few months since her assault, and yet here she was, exposed and vulnerable, trusting him to take care of her. What kind of monster would she think him to be if she knew the thoughts that had just flooded his mind? By the grace of God, his body did not betray him. He set his jaw, preparing himself before he reopened his eyes and tried to focus once again on staging the next shot.

Olivia had not noticed Elliot's crisis of conscience because she was struggling to control her own response. Her breaths were coming in shallow pants, and she decided that it was incredibly fortunate that she was lying down because even flat on her back she felt lightheaded. Elliot's hands moved over her, tickling her flesh as he maneuvered the fabric of her shirt to cover more of her, while still trying to position it in a way that would seem feasible after being ripped.

Eventually his hands stilled, having left a gap that revealed some cleavage and a path of skin that extended all the way down past her navel. He decided that this was about as safe as they could play it, and he wasn't altogether convinced that it would be enough. They took a couple of photos like this, just in case.

"Liv, I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to leave it the way I had it before," he explained.

Olivia nodded her understanding. His hands pulled on the fabric, and she watched as it slipped off of her leaving her entire torso exposed. Her chest was heaving, but she was beyond caring about trying to hide her nervousness from Elliot. It was too late for that anyway.

For his part, Elliot did his best to keep his eyes glued to her face, gazing at the rest of her just long enough to make sure that he captured what he needed to in the next few photographs.

"Okay, Liv," he breathed, "We're almost done – just a couple more, okay?" He said it as much to reassure himself as he did for her benefit.

She nodded.

They both knew he needed to up the ante. Elliot held her gaze as he slowly reached toward her, lowering his hand to rest once again on her breast. This time, the only barrier between them was a thin layer of satin and lace. Olivia shivered at the contact, causing her nipple to harden beneath his palm. Elliot bit down as hard as he could on the inside of his cheek, trying to focus all of his attention on the pain to distract himself from the sensation. He tightened his grasp. "I'm not hurting you?" he managed.

She shook her head.

"Okay, let's make these last few count," he said resolutely.

She nodded. This time as he raised the camera, she did her best to project as much fear and panic as she could muster. He took a few as she arched against him, bucking against the restraints. He drew his hand off of her breast and up to her neck, taking a few shots as he trailed his hand down her body, over her chest and stomach, gripping the flesh hard enough to look painful in the photos without actually causing her harm.

At a certain point he froze as he noticed a line of tears streaming down her cheek. "Liv?" he asked, alarmed.

She immediately softened her expression and shook her head, indicating that it was just for show.

"You sure you're okay?" he checked, only continuing when she nodded back at him.

He resumed his movements, taking a steady stream of photographs as Olivia continued to put up a struggle beneath him. Eventually he paused. He thought that they probably had enough, but wanted to err on the side of caution. "Uh, Liv?" he began, hating himself for having to ask her this. "Would it be alright if I undo the button on your pants?"

Her breath hitched but she nodded, understanding what he was doing. The muscles in her abdomen twitched slightly as his fingers brushed against her. Once the button was undone he hesitated, feeling guilty and not wanting to voice his next question. "Liv," he started, stopping short as she preemptively nodded at him. "You're sure?"

Olivia nodded again, her big brown eyes looking up at him nervously as he slowly eased down her zipper. Even though she knew that Elliot was not going to do anything, her whole body was trembling. He brought his hand to rest on her quivering stomach as he readied the camera. Maintaining eye contact he took a series of shots as he drew his hand lower. He paused once he reached the waistband of her pants, waiting for her to nod her assent before he slid his hand underneath, just far enough to create the illusion that his hand was continuing its downward path. He took two more photos.

He immediately removed his hand, drawing up her zipper and refastening the button. He leaned forward, pulling the tie from her mouth. "It's enough, Liv," he said, his eyes brimming with concern. "It's gotta be enough."

Olivia suddenly wished that she still had the gag in her mouth because she wasn't sure if she could speak. She took in a shuddering breath. "If you n-need to keep going," she started.

"No," he shook his head. He felt horrible as it was for having to push her as far as he had. "We're good." His eyes widened as he suddenly realized he had left her torso exposed, and felt like an even bigger asshole. "God, Liv, I'm sorry," he exclaimed, quickly moving to wrap the pieces of her shirt around her.

"El, it's okay," she soothed.

He reached over to the nightstand, picking up the key to the handcuffs, and leaned over her as he worked to release her. Knowing that she must have long since lost all feeling in her arms, he was careful to support her wrists as he freed them, gingerly bringing her arms down to rest at her sides. "Jesus, Liv," he breathed as he saw the angry red marks that marred her skin.

She lifted her head up slightly to inspect the damage as Elliot slipped the tie off of her. "It's my own fault," she said, relishing the last few moments of numbness before the anticipated discomfort.

Elliot braced his arms on either side of her head as he lifted his left leg up and over her to land on the floor. Olivia felt a pang of loss as he stood. She had grown accustomed to the weight of him.

"I'm going to go get some stuff to take care of those," he said as he helped her into a sitting position, moving her arms so that they rested in her lap. He scanned the room and found a soft, plum, chenille throw. He brought this to her, draping it across her shoulders and wrapping it around her so that she would not have to feel self-conscious about the state of her shirt. "I'll be right back, okay?"

She watched as he left the room, flexing her fingers as the pins and needles sensation started to trickle down her arms. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand: 3:00am. _"Great,"_ she thought with a sigh. She wasn't sure how she was feeling at this point, but despite her physical and mental exhaustion she somehow felt that sleep would not come easily tonight. The room was not cold, but a shiver ran down her spine. She curled her fingers around the torn edges of her shirt beneath the throw. Her hands were shaking – something that she initially attributed to the renewed circulation, but as her awareness increased she gradually became conscious of the fact that her entire body was shaking. She realized it was probably a byproduct of the adrenaline that had been coursing through her system, but the fact that she was unable to do anything to control it was unsettling. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to focus on taking some deep breaths.

Elliot appeared in the doorway and was immediately before her, kneeling at her feet while he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

God, Elliot was going to think that she was insane. "Adrenaline," she tried to explain through chattering teeth.

"I know," he said without a trace of judgment. He lifted a hand up to her neck to check her pulse. "Just try to breathe," he instructed softly. He remained in front of her, his blue eyes serving as her anchor as she rode it out.

Gradually the tremors subsided as her breathing and heart rate returned to normal. "Thank you," she said bashfully, her eyes dropping to stare at her lap.

"No problem," he said, recognizing her embarrassment and setting about to tend to her wrists so that she would not feel pressured to conceal her response. Her flesh was red and raw, and there were a couple of places where the cuffs had bitten into her enough to break the skin. He sighed and doused a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide, gently patting the wounds to disinfect them.

She watched him as he worked, biting her lip when his fingers hit a particularly tender spot along her bone. As she studied him, she imagined that this is what Elliot must have looked like whenever he tended to the scraped knee of one of his children – his brow furrowed as he concentrated on the task at hand, doing his best to cause as little discomfort as possible. She could not remember a time that her mother had ever tended to her in this way. From the time that she could reach the first aid kit, she had been doing it for herself, though more times than not she had ultimately done nothing, letting her injuries scab over on their own, the outward scars becoming a perpetual reminder of the internal wounds that continued to bleed.

He applied some antibiotic ointment to the scrapes, and wrapped some gauze lightly around each wrist, securing both with a small piece of tape. "Here," he said, dropping some Advil into her palm and placing a bottle of water in the other. "I know you can be stubborn about painkillers, but you're going to need it for the inflammation," he continued, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

She nodded, not wanting to admit to him that she hadn't had any intention of arguing with him about the painkillers this time. "Thanks," she said, swallowing the pills.

He gathered up the supplies, replacing them in her medicine cabinet. When he returned, he found Olivia standing by her dresser, using one hand to secure the throw around her while she rummaged through her drawer with the other. She eventually pulled out an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "I'll be right back," she said, walking past him into the hall. He watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, unsure of what she wanted him to do. He prayed that she would allow him to spend the night on her couch. He couldn't leave her alone. Not tonight.

Feeling restless and searching for something to do, he made his way over to her bed, straightening the pillows and sheets and picking up the down comforter from the floor. He shook it out before spreading it back over her sheets. He wasn't sure which side of the bed she slept on, but decided to pull back the corner closest to her nightstand. Satisfied with the end result, he gathered up the objects from her nightstand and brought them back to the living room. He put the camera and the handcuffs into his jacket pocket before staring at the tie in his hands. Unbidden, images of Olivia bound and gagged beneath him invaded his mind. He balled up the tie, a knot in his chest as he wondered whether there would ever come a time that he would no longer be haunted by them. He walked to the kitchen, angrily hurling the tie in the trash.

Olivia emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, finding Elliot seated on her couch. His chin rested on the steeple of his fingers as he leaned forward, his elbows balanced on his knees. "Hey," he said, sitting up as she approached. She attempted a half smile that did not reach her eyes. She stood with her arms hugging her chest, her frame dwarfed by the oversized clothing. _"_ _Please,_ _please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _make_ _me_ _leave,"_ he thought.

He decided to ask her, thinking that Olivia's pride might not permit her to request it of him. "Liv, if you don't mind, it's so late… Could I crash on your couch tonight?"

Olivia's body language relaxed ever so slightly. "Sure, El," she said. "I don't like the idea of you driving right now anyway."

"Thanks," he said, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

She went to the hall closet, bringing him back a couple of extra pillows and blankets. "Here," she said. "I'm sorry I don't have anything you can change into."

"I'll be fine," he said.

"Okay," she said, regarding him for a moment before starting to head toward her bedroom.

"Liv," he called after her before she disappeared around the corner.

She turned to look at him.

"If you need anything…" he trailed off.

She nodded, offering another half smile before walking away. She closed the bedroom door behind her and crawled into bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin, forcing herself to turn off the lamp on her nightstand. She tossed and turned for a while, her mind filled with jumbled thoughts and emotions. She realized that this was the first night that she was spending in her bed without having the Sig concealed underneath her pillow, but she wasn't about to disturb Elliot in order to get it. She told herself she was being ridiculous, especially with Elliot right there on the other side of the wall.

She sat up in bed, raking her fingers through her hair. Glancing around the room, her gaze fell on the plum throw that Elliot had wrapped around her earlier. She threw back the covers, padding across the room and fingering the soft material before she pulled it around her shoulders. She crawled back into bed with it, burying her nose in the fabric. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she tried to breathe in any remaining traces of him. She curled her knees up to her chest and eventually succumbed to slumber.

Elliot lay on the couch, straining to hear for any sounds of movement beyond the wall. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Olivia's pained expression staring back at him. He remembered the feel of her body shaking against his as she told him about her assault, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought that he had essentially violated her all over again. He shuddered as he thought about the undercover op, realizing that as difficult as tonight had been, at least they had been able to go about it at their own pace in an environment in which Olivia felt safe. If they made it to the club, he would have to assume the persona of Carl at all times – push her, mistreat her, with no way to reassure her along the way. He clutched a pillow to his chest, swallowing against the tightness in his throat as he heard her whimper softly in her sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Note:_

 _This chapter was initially posted at 4am on Christmas, 2008. Things are starting to get more complicated for Liv and El. Tensions are running high, but we end on a good E/O note. Also, side note, but this was the chapter where I realized how much I love writing the interplay between Olivia and Fin. I give them more time together in subsequent chapters, and I think this was the precursor to that._

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Morning came all too soon, and it had been a restless night for the both of them. They had regarded one another somewhat awkwardly when Olivia emerged from her bedroom. Olivia felt self-conscious for having revealed so much of herself to Elliot, both physically and emotionally, and she was finding it hard to look him in the eye. Elliot felt guilty for his role in this, and was desperately seeking some sort of signal from her that would indicate that he had not managed to irrevocably damage their partnership. The fact that his every attempt at interaction was met by terse one word responses – if she chose to respond to him verbally at all, was not a good sign.

She had officially shut down.

Olivia sensed Elliot's worry, but it only served to augment her anger at herself for having broken down in front of him in the first place. Adding to her internal boxing match was the fact that she was acutely aware of the way in which her body had responded to Elliot's touch, and while she knew Elliot would never let on that he was aware of this, there was no way that he had missed her very obvious reaction to the feel of his hand on her breast. She shut her eyes at the recollection, caught somewhere between mortification and want.

Elliot did not have an inkling as to her train of thought, but immediately noticed the tension in her jaw as her eyes closed.

"Liv, are you–?"

"I'm _fine_ El," she gritted. She knew she wasn't being fair by taking out her frustration on him, but she was more than a little on edge. If she was asked that question _one_ _more_ _time_ she thought she might explode.

Elliot grunted somewhat sullenly, his concern and guilt quickly transforming into irritation as he ricocheted off of yet another verbal brick wall.

Olivia turned away from him, stalking down the hallway to finish getting ready. She longed for a hot shower and for some time to herself, but she didn't have that luxury today. No, instead she was going to have to endure a day filled with concerned glances, awkward silences, and what was likely going to be far too many coworkers getting a glimpse of her in various stages of undress. She yanked a gray crew neck sweater over her head, cursing as the material dragged along her sore wrists. She decided to leave the gauze on for the time being, not knowing which would draw more attention – the wounds or the bandages themselves. As she leaned over to pull on her boots, the dull ache in her head intensified to a throbbing insistence but she refused to take any more painkillers. If anything, the physical pain would serve as a distraction from the more abstract one of humiliation.

She took a deep breath before returning to the living room. Elliot was pacing by her window, already wearing his jacket. He turned as she entered, looking at her guardedly as if anticipating the next rebuff. Her eyes flitted up to meet his for only the briefest of acknowledgements, never slowing her pace as she walked to the door to slip on her own jacket. Elliot clenched his jaw and let out a sigh through his nose that he had intended to be inaudible, but Olivia heard it loud and clear.

She turned halfway toward him to call him on it, but thought better of it and turned back around, a scowl firmly planted on her face.

Frustrated, Elliot decided not to let it go.

"What?" he said irritably. He didn't have a view of her face, but knew she had rolled her eyes.

" _Nothing_."

Elliot chuckled bitterly. "Fine."

Olivia whipped her head around to glare at him. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm not in the best of moods today," she snapped. "As much fun as the past few days have been–"

"Oh, come on!" he interrupted. "And you think this has been easy for me?"

"Right," she said icily. "Forgive me if I think that somehow being assigned the task of playing photographer doesn't quite compare."

She headed for the door but Elliot blocked her path.

"Are you _serious_ _?_ " he seethed, his expression a mixture of incredulity and rage.

"Forget it," she spat. "We're going to be late."

She brushed past him, throwing open the door and blindly heading for the stairs. She knew she had crossed the line but she didn't care. She clung to her anger like a security blanket. As long as she stayed angry, the other emotions threatening to flood her would be kept at bay.

Elliot stood fuming, still reeling from the accusation. Part of him understood what she was doing, but that did little to soften the blow. He had been tormented by every agonizing second of the past night, and the implication that he had experienced anything less than that left him feeling as though he'd gotten the wind knocked out of him. His fists were clenched so tightly that they shook from the effort of remaining at his sides. He resisted the urge to punch a hole through her wall and settled on storming out of her apartment, slamming the door behind him.

By the time he got to the car, Olivia was already seated in the passenger side, her head propped up on the arm that rested against the glass. He made his way around the back of the car to take his place behind the wheel, shutting the door more forcefully than necessary and yanking his seatbelt across his lap. Olivia ignored his actions, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive posture and turning her head away from him to stare out her window. Elliot alternated between accelerating too rapidly and slamming on the brakes for the duration of the trip, his temper only worsening as he hit every single red light along the way.

More than one head turned as they entered the squad room. Between Olivia's pallid complexion and the dark circles under her eyes, and Elliot's rumpled clothing and the line of stubble dotting his jaw, haggard did not even begin to describe the two of them.

Munch and Fin looked up from where they had been going over the responses to Munch's postings as Carl in the chat room. Munch opened his mouth to make some crack about their appearance, but Fin preemptively silenced him with a nudge and a glare.

He backed down, but not completely. "Morning," he called a bit too cheerfully.

Fin shook his head, giving him a deprecating look.

Elliot narrowed his eyes in warning, and headed over to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Olivia nodded distractedly in their general direction before glancing anxiously at Cragen's office. His door was closed but she could hear him reaming somebody out over the telephone. Apparently foul moods abounded. She lowered herself into her chair and watched him through the glass, dreading the moment when he would hang up the phone.

Fin watched as she shrugged out of her jacket, catching a glimpse of white before Olivia was able to tug on her sleeves to conceal the bandages. His brow furrowed slightly and he walked over to join Elliot by the coffee machine.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Liv okay?"

Elliot reached across Fin to grab a coffee stirrer. "Sure," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Fin's voice dropped even lower. "You okay?"

Elliot's hand paused in the middle of its stirring. He leaned his head back slightly, breathing a defeated laugh through his nose. Returning his attention to his coffee, he tapped the straw against the rim a few times to rid it of the droplets clinging to the plastic. "No," he replied brusquely, tossing it into the trash. He took a sip, grimacing as the bitter liquid met his tongue. "You get anywhere with that?" he asked, gesturing to Munch who was typing God knows what in the chat room.

"Lots of fish biting, but no shark yet."

Elliot nodded.

"Do yourself a favor, man," Fin continued. "Don't read that shit."

Elliot looked at Fin for the first time. "I'm going to have to in case I ever get asked about any of it."

Fin inclined his head in Munch's direction. "All I'm saying is he's not pulling any punches." Fabricated or not, Fin knew that it was going to be hard for Elliot to read through the postings without picturing Olivia suffering at his hands. "And, uh, he's telling them that he's going to be uploading pictures soon."

Elliot set his jaw and glanced at Olivia. "Yeah, we got them."

Cragen finished his phone conversation and opened his door. "Elliot," he called, disappearing back into his office.

Elliot looked over at Olivia's rigid form and started to make his way across the room. He slowed his pace as he passed her. Her eyes darted up to meet his, the hardened mask she had worn all morning cracking slightly as her apprehension shone through. He attempted to silently communicate some reassurance, understanding that however difficult it might be, she wanted to be present when they went over the photographs. From what he could tell, Huang was nowhere to be found yet, so he hoped it meant that Cragen merely wanted to confirm that they had been taken.

"Cap?" he asked, purposefully leaving the door open to try to set her mind at ease.

Cragen looked over Elliot's shoulder to study Olivia. "Were you two able to–?" he stopped at Elliot's nod.

Elliot reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the tail end of the camera before letting it fall back in.

Cragen nodded. "Huang should be here soon. Munch has been making some headway in terms of getting a following of users on the site, but Huang doesn't think we'll know if Nikolai is among them until we post those pictures." He regarded his detective carefully for a moment before adding, "You still have some time, if you want to get yourself together."

The comment was matter of fact, without any traces of judgment or accusation as to why Elliot would still be wearing the same clothes from the day before.

Elliot nodded his assent before heading to the locker room to change. He rifled through the jumbled contents of his locker before finding a disposable razor. It was slightly dull, but he figured it was better than nothing given the fact that he was developing more of a beard at this point than a five o'clock shadow. He made his way to the restroom, chuckling as he caught sight of his reflection and wondering how Cragen had managed to get through their conversation without sending him away at first glance.

When he returned to his locker he pulled on a fresh shirt, forcing himself to put on a tie. He picked up his jacket from the bench, pulling out the camera and setting it aside. He felt inside the opposite pocket for his cuffs, and his fingers brushed against the thin gold band that he had forgotten he had placed inside. He held it in his palm, struck by the way in which the ring that had adorned his hand for over two decades suddenly seemed so foreign. No longer wanting to carry it with him, he slid it along the top shelf of his locker until he felt it meet the back wall. He folded his jacket and stuffed it inside before picking up the camera and returning to the main squad room.

Olivia was nervously tapping a pen between the index finger and thumb of her left hand, her mouth a thin line as she stared in the direction of Cragen's office. Elliot followed her gaze and saw that Huang had arrived. He sighed inwardly, feeling powerless to help her with any of this since she was so hell bent on pushing him away.

Olivia felt his presence before she saw him. He stood close enough for her to know that he was there, but made no move to get her attention. She did not turn to acknowledge him, not knowing whether she'd find frustration or concern reflected in his eyes. She didn't think that she would be able to cope with either one.

After a few moments she stood, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater once again before curling her fingertips around the edges to prevent the material from riding up. "Okay," she said.

Elliot accepted that the comment had been directed at him despite the fact that she had not turned to face him. He fell into step behind her, the weight of the camera leaden in his palm.

Olivia steeled herself as she entered Cragen's office, taking a seat in the same chair she had the night before.

Elliot pulled the door closed behind him, feeling somewhat guilty as he handed the camera to Huang. He shoved his hands into his pockets, opting to remain standing.

Huang studied the detectives for a moment before moving to stand closer to Cragen.

Olivia bristled at his silent appraisal. Huang always looked at people as though seeing straight through them. She was determined not to break under his scrutiny, no matter how uncomfortable the meeting became. Her mind returned to what she had revealed to Elliot the night before, and she hoped that he would keep his promise and not betray her confidence. She also realized that in a few moments Huang would have viewed the photographs preceding and following her breakdown – photos that she had yet to see – and suddenly became worried that he would be able to intuit her mental status from those alone. Her heart pounded in her chest and she prayed that he would attribute any rawness of emotion contained within them to her ability to put on a convincing act.

Cragen and Huang focused intently on the small LCD screen as Huang began to scroll through the images. The tension in the air was palpable. The muted sounds of the squad room were drowned out by the soft beep of the camera as Huang pressed the arrow key.

Elliot and Olivia had stopped breathing, each beep signifying the progression of Olivia's simulated assault.

Halfway through the frames, Cragen raised his eyes, looking pointedly at Elliot.

Though the exchange lasted only a matter of seconds, Elliot cringed. He wasn't sure where they were in the series, but could only imagine that they had come to ones where she was bound and gagged beneath him.

 _Beep,_ _beep,_ _beep…_

Olivia's nails were digging into her palms. She noted that Cragen's brow seemed to furrow more with every passing second. Three quarters of the way through, he noticeably grimaced. Olivia was unable to read Huang, whose face remained characteristically impassive. She pitied the person that was foolish enough to challenge him to a hand of poker. She glanced at Elliot whose features were locked into a pained expression as he stared at the camera. She swallowed, a wave of regret washing over her as she remembered the words she had so selfishly hurled at him earlier.

As they reached the last few photographs, Cragen looked up again at Elliot who felt his gaze but did not meet it. Cragen wasn't sure why he felt a twinge of irritation at his senior detective. He knew that it was misplaced and rather had to do with his anger at having to put them in this situation to begin with. Elliot had only been doing what had been asked of him, and was obviously struggling in the aftermath. He switched his gaze to Olivia, whose eyes met his for the briefest of moments before falling to stare at her hands. He understood her reaction, feeling similarly uncomfortable at having had to view her in such a vulnerable position. He took in a breath and released it slowly through his nose, buying time as he tried to decide what to say to them.

Huang broke the silence. "Olivia, have you seen these?"

Olivia looked up at him and shook her head.

Huang extended the camera across the desk. Olivia leaned forward, reaching up to take it from him, the action fully exposing the bandage on her right wrist. Olivia quickly retracted her arm, purposefully not paying acknowledgement to the collective focus in the room. She looked down at the camera in her hands, not sure that she actually wanted to review the images.

"I think that we have the best chance of attracting Nikolai's attention if we post all of them, but that has to be a decision that you are comfortable with," Huang continued.

Elliot breathed a sigh of annoyance, irritated with the way Huang had phrased his sentence. Even if Olivia was uncomfortable with every single shot, he knew that she had already made up her mind to do everything possible to increase their chances of making the operation a successful one. With Huang's assessment, Olivia would never voice opposition if it meant that the exclusion of certain photos would detract from this objective.

Olivia forced herself to scroll through the photos, knowing that the three men were carefully examining her reactions. She did her best to maintain a neutral expression regardless of the feelings the images evoked. Despite her better judgment, she looked up at Elliot as she finished. The guilt and pain with which he regarded her threatened to crack through her resolve, and it was all that she could do to prevent herself from apologizing for her earlier behavior right then and there in front of everyone. She needed for him to know that she did not blame him for any of this, though, knowing Elliot, she doubted that anything she could say or do would be able to stop him from blaming himself.

She swallowed and handed the camera to Cragen, willing her voice to sound strong as she said, "We should do it."

Cragen cleared his throat, eager for the meeting to finish. "Okay," he said. "Olivia, feel free to take some time today. Elliot, I need you to spend time with Munch and Fin to familiarize yourself with what's been posted so far. And, uh, I'll let you handle this," he finished, handing him the camera.

Olivia stood, moving to the door before Elliot. The last thing she wanted was to be left in that office to be cornered by Huang. She returned to her desk, bracing herself as she saw him heading toward her out of the corner of her eye. Surprisingly, the anticipated confrontation did not happen, as he continued past her toward the elevators. She turned to watch him as walked away. As he reached the hallway, he pivoted toward her just long enough to offer her the slightest knowing smile before disappearing around the corner. It was enough to communicate that he was respecting her need for space for the moment, but also enough to convey that he was not going to allow her to avoid him indefinitely.

She turned back around, jumping slightly as she found Elliot standing a foot away.

"Sorry," he said, quickly backing up a few paces.

He had reacted as though he thought she was afraid of him. Olivia shook her head. "You just startled me."

"You going home?" he asked.

"Yeah, for a little while. I could use a shower."

Again, Elliot misinterpreted her. "Right, uh, of course," he stammered uncomfortably. He kicked himself for being so stupid. Of course she would want to shower after last night. She had consented to whatever she had to for the sake of the pictures, but that in no way meant that she had wanted it. It made sense that she would want to wash away the traces of his hands on her skin. He already felt like a perp, so it was only fitting that she felt like a victim.

Olivia tried to decipher the many emotions she saw passing across his features. Her eyes widened as she realized how he had heard her words. "No," she said, trying to explain, but he continued to look away from her. "El, stop," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm so that he met her eyes again. "I just meant that I haven't showered in days," she explained. "I'm surprised you haven't said something yet," she added with a smirk.

He smiled sadly, her words doing nothing to make him feel better. "Yeah, well, I suppose you were getting a little ripe," he responded half-heartedly. "You want a ride?"

"No, that's okay. I think I could use some fresh air."

He nodded. "Okay, just give me a call if you need anything. I'll be, uh…" He gestured to Fin and Munch.

"Yeah," she murmured, shutting her eyes against the thought that it was only a matter of time before they saw the photos as well. She hurriedly pulled on her jacket, making sure she had her keys before quickly heading to the exit.

Elliot sighed and moved at a decidedly slower pace toward Fin and Munch. He hesitated a moment before depositing the camera on Munch's desk.

They both turned, looking uneasily from the camera to Elliot and back again.

"All I ask is that we don't talk about this. If not for my sake, for Liv's," Elliot said resignedly.

He looked up with a weary expression and, for once, the faces of the detectives looking back at him were as solemn as his own.

* * *

Olivia returned to the squad room a few hours later to find Elliot at his desk, bent over a stack of printed transcripts from the chat room. She looked over at Fin and Munch who regarded her somewhat awkwardly before turning back to focus on the site. She took her place across from Elliot. "I take it we're up and running," she said quietly.

He looked up from the papers. "Yeah," he sighed. He suddenly straightened. "Why?" he asked protectively, turning to look accusingly at Fin and Munch whose heads remained pointed in the opposite direction.

"They didn't say anything, El," she placated. "They didn't have to."

Elliot understood. They hadn't said a word to him either, but he had been well aware of the reproachful glances they had attempted to stifle as they uploaded the files. He nodded apologetically, drawing a hand over his eyes as he forced himself to return to his reading.

"Let me read some of those," Olivia said.

His head shot back up and he looked at her as if she had completely lost her mind. "No," he said firmly.

Her eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "I want to read them," she said evenly.

"There is absolutely nothing in this stack of filth that you need to read," he argued.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice so that only he would hear her. "Um, if my _body_ is being posted on that damn site, I sure as hell have the right to read anything and everything that's attached to it," she hissed.

"Liv," he pleaded, his voice equally low. "Please don't do this to yourself."

She glared at him. "They're words, Elliot. Fucked up, despicable words, but they're words that I need to read." She paused, looking around to make sure that nobody was listening. "I need to be prepared for this, El," her voice wavered slightly, "just like you."

Olivia needed to get a sense of how Carl was being portrayed, because she knew it would play a big role not only in the way that Elliot would have to act, but also how she, as Tara, would have to react to him.

This was the only reason that Elliot gave in. It had nothing to do with the tremble in her voice, or the guilt he felt at the fact that his first impulse had been to reach across the desk and cup her cheek in his palm.

He sighed and handed her the thick stack of papers that he had already read.

"Thank you," she said, her tone a mixture of residual irritation and satisfaction.

They each bent over their respective documents, neither looking up for what seemed like hours. Elliot's stomach was churning at the thought of ever having to mistreat Olivia, let alone in the ways described in the chat room, while Olivia was struggling to ignore the fact that the depraved users were not only getting an eyeful of her, but were then associating her with the rest of the graphic references to Tara on the site.

"Guys!" Fin's voice called from across the room. "We got contact."

Elliot and Olivia looked at one another before hurrying to join him around Munch's computer.

"He just posted this link," Munch explained. " _'_ _E_ _xclusive_ _invite_ _to_ _my_ _club._ _Tomorrow_ _night,_ _9:00pm,_ _corner_ _of_ _West_ _72_ _n_ _d_ _St._ _and_ _Amsterdam._ _My_ _driver._ _Just_ _you_ _and_ _your_ _whore._ _D_ _on_ _'_ _t_ _screw_ _with_ _me._ _I_ _'_ _l_ _l_ _make_ _it_ _worth_ _your_ _while._ _N,_ _'_ " he read aloud.

"We printing it?" Elliot asked.

"Already got it," Fin replied.

"Easy access to the West Side Highway," Elliot said.

"Both directions," Olivia added. "Doesn't really narrow it down."

"Could be headed to any of the tunnels, or the GW," Fin suggested.

Munch shook his head. "There's no guarantee it means anything. He could just as easily be taking them over to the east side into Queens. There's no point in guessing. You might as well throw a dart at the map."

"T.A.R.U. get those transmitters ready?" Elliot asked.

"I'll check with Cragen," Fin said, heading over to his office.

Elliot nodded.

Olivia walked away from the group back to her desk. Her stomach was in knots. Thus far they had been going through the motions, never knowing if it would be enough to grant them access to the club. Somehow that had made the idea of going undercover seem more hypothetical. But now it was no longer a question of _if_ they made it to the club, but of what they would have to do when they got there.

Elliot noticed her shift in demeanor and returned to take his seat across from her. "You–" the question died on his lips. This morning she had gone ballistic when he asked her.

She sighed. "I'm fine, El," she said, underscoring the fact that the topic was closed for discussion by resuming her perusal of the transcripts.

"Okay," he responded warily, picking up the next page on his pile and starting up again as well.

Twenty minutes went by when Olivia abruptly stopped and looked up at him.

"Liv?"

She took a deep breath, already anticipating the argument to follow. "El, you're going to have to hit me."

Elliot dropped the page he was holding. " _Wha_ _t_?"

"I _said_ that you're going to have to hit me – sometime between now and tomorrow night."

"What are you talking about?" he asked incredulously, his voice starting to rise.

Olivia picked up the page she had been reading and cleared her throat, "And I quote: _'She_ _tried_ _to_ _get_ _away_ _and_ _I_ _punched_ _her_ _so_ _hard_ _that_ _her_ _head_ _snapped_ _back._ _She_ _begged_ _me_ _to_ _stop_ _and_ _I_ _threw_ _her_ _down_ _on_ _the_ _bed_ _and_ _–'_ "

"Liv, stop," he gritted.

"It's here as clear as day," she said determinedly.

"Well you can forget it, I'm not going to hit you," he said dismissively, acting as though he was going to resume his reading.

"Elliot," she said pointedly.

"I said no," he snapped.

Fin wandered over, wondering what was triggering their current back and forth. "Okay, what's up?" he asked looking between the two of them.

Olivia continued to glare in Elliot's direction but handed Fin the page she had been reading. "Paragraph two," she said icily. "I have been explaining to Elliot that he's going to have to hit me."

Fin's head remained bowed over the paper, but his eyes flew to look at Elliot whose own had narrowed into thin slits as he stared back at Olivia. "Uh huh," Fin said noncommittally.

"Olivia, we'll slap on some stage makeup, make it look like a bad bruise. I'm not going to fucking punch you," Elliot snarled.

"Which is a _great_ idea," she said sarcastically, "since I'm sure when you're in the process of attacking me there is absolutely no chance of that getting smudged."

"This is fucking ridiculous," he muttered, shoving his chair back and stomping out of the room.

Olivia leaned forward and rested her forehead on the tips of her fingers. She knew it wasn't an easy request of him, but she also knew she was right about this one.

"Hey," Fin said reassuringly.

"It's too dangerous to run the risk of faking it," she sighed, raising her head and resting her forearms on her desk.

"I know," he nodded.

Olivia paused, looking up at Fin slowly, the unspoken request hanging silently in the air.

Fin released the breath he'd been holding and although he shook his head, his expression conveyed his reluctant acceptance. Stabler was going to kill him.

* * *

Fin stood facing Olivia, his left hand on her shoulder, hoping to brace her should she lose her balance. They had moved into an interrogation room for the sake of avoiding an audience – Elliot included.

"You ready Liv?" he asked.

Olivia took a deep breath. "Yeah," she replied. "Oh, and Fin?"

"Yeah?"

"Make the first swing count? I, um," she hesitated, "I don't want to prolong this more than I have to."

"Me neither," he responded, concern etched in his features.

Elliot rounded the corner and saw them through the glass. He approached the door quickly, storming in the room just in time to see Fin's fist collide with Olivia's cheek. Fin succeeded in preventing Olivia from falling into the table, but she still staggered back from the force of the impact.

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" Elliot growled, yanking Fin away from her and shoving him hard up against the wall.

"I'm doing what you couldn't do, man!" Fin spat back. He knew that it killed Elliot to see Olivia hurting, as much as he knew that no amount of asking on her part would have been able to convince Elliot to be the one to inflict it.

Olivia's eyes stung as she blinked back reflexive tears, her cheek throbbing and hot to the touch. "El," she started, trying to regain her composure. Elliot maintained his hold on Fin, his jaw clenching and unclenching and his blue eyes piercing into Fin's brown ones.

"Olivia was right, Elliot," Fin continued, unfazed by Elliot's intimidation tactics. "It had to be real. It's too dangerous for both of your sakes to go into this thing if-"

"You _don_ _'_ _t_ , _fucking_ , _touch_ _her_ ," Elliot interrupted, emphasizing each word slowly and deliberately, daring Fin to say otherwise.

"Elliot," she tried again, her voice stronger this time.

Fin used his chest to shove Elliot off of him, staring him down as he made his way toward the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Liv, you okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning her face.

"Fine," she assured him.

He nodded before heading back to the squad room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Olivia stood watching Elliot's heaving back, waiting for the explosion. Finally he whirled around to face her.

"Great," he snorted derisively. "I'm glad I can always count on Fin to make sure my partner gets her face bashed in."

She knew that he was bringing Sealview back into this and it pissed her off. "Elliot, you're out of line."

" _I_ _'_ _m_ out of line?" he yelled.

"Yes," she hissed, bringing the back of her hand up to hold it against her cheek, the throbbing intensifying with her anger. "Fin was doing what I asked him to do – what I asked _you_ to do – because _he_ knew it had to be done."

"According to whom? To you?" He stalked toward her, crowding her, but she stood her ground and raised her chin higher. "It's funny," he continued, "but I don't recall hearing Cragen ordering me to hit you."

"Once he'd read that, he would have made the order, and you know it," she challenged. "I'm not made of glass, Elliot. I do what I need to do to get the job done."

He glared at her. "And I don't."

She said nothing, and this only incensed him further.

"What the hell are you trying to prove?" he seethed, his face barely an inch away from hers. "You're so hell bent on punishing yourself lately."

Her eyes widened. " _Excuse_ me?"

"How many blows were you going to take if I hadn't come through that door? Huh?" he goaded.

Olivia was shaking. "Fuck you," she fumed, shaking her head from side to side and backing up until the backs of her thighs met the table. "Where do you get off–" her voice was trembling.

"Is that what this is?" he demanded, closing the distance between them again so that her body was pinned between his and the table. "You're not doing a good enough job at beating yourself up, so you need one of us to do it for you?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, blinking back tears of rage and of pain. When she reopened them she twisted her head to the side, bending backward in an attempt to put some distance between them.

Then all of a sudden he was off of her and halfway across the room. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm done."

He spoke with a finality that chilled her to the bone. She panicked at the thought that he would actually walk away, and the fear of what that might mean for her overrode any concern for preserving any remnants of her dignity. "Elliot!" she called as he reached the door, her voice so full of desperation and fear that it immobilized the both of them. She braced her hands on the table, her chest shuddering under the strain of trying to take in enough air.

Elliot remained frozen, his back toward her and his head turned slightly to the side.

When she spoke again her voice was shaky and small. She didn't care.

"Please don't make me do this with someone else," she pleaded, her eyes welling up with tears.

Elliot spun around to face her, the anguish in her eyes tearing him apart. He crossed the room in a few quick strides to stand behind her. "Liv," he said softly. "Liv, look at me." When she didn't respond, he reached out to touch her upper arm, gently coaxing her to turn toward him. She chewed on her lower lip, her eyes downcast. "Liv, I didn't mean," his voice cracked. "God, I would never…" He resisted the urge to pull her into an embrace, and instead brought his hands to rest on either side of her face, bending down a bit until she met his gaze. "I meant that I was done fighting with you. I would never make you… I would _never_ do that to you," he clarified.

Relief washed over her.

"I just," he sighed, dropping his hands. "We've been fighting all day." He shook his head. "And _this_ ," he said, gesturing to her cheek with a grimace. "I wasn't at all prepared for this."

She nodded, feeling fatigued and lowering herself to perch on the edge of the table.

"Liv, just let me get something. I'll be right back," he promised.

"Okay," she said. She watched as he left, gingerly prodding her swollen cheek.

He returned a few minutes later with a can of Pepsi.

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Sorry, it's the best I could do," he shrugged, holding it lightly against her cheek.

She reached up to take it from him, and he let his hand fall away, moving to lean against the opposite wall.

They sat in silence for a while before Olivia spoke. "El, about what I said this morning… I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I know," he said.

She shook her head. "It was uncalled for, and I just… I don't want you to think that I–"

"I don't," he said simply.

"Okay," she said, allowing the silence to return briefly before she looked up at him nervously and broke it once again. "Elliot, I'm going to say something you're not going to want to hear, but I need to say it."

"Okay," he responded warily.

"I know this is hard for you," she gestured to her cheek, "and despite what you might think, I went to Fin because I thought it would make it easier on you."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand.

"Please just hear me out?" she implored.

He nodded.

"We've both read the transcripts, and we both know what gets this guy off."

Elliot swallowed.

"I just want you to know that I'm expecting that at some point tomorrow night, you _will_ have to hit me – probably more than once."

"Liv–"

She shook her head, "If you didn't, it would probably only make him suspicious, and I fully intend on us both getting out of there in one piece."

He sighed.

"I'm just saying it now," she placated, "because if I don't, it would kill me if you thought that I didn't understand what you were doing."

He looked at her with a mixture of sadness and admiration. "Okay," he said quietly.

Olivia wasn't quite sure what to make of his acquiescence, but was relieved that he had let her finish. She didn't think she had any energy left to argue with him.

Elliot waited a moment before saying somewhat awkwardly, "We, uh, never really talked more about the safe word thing."

Olivia's face flushed slightly, and she was more grateful than ever for the cold soda can pressed against her cheek. "Right," she murmured. As he made no move to speak, she continued. "I, um, I did think about it a little bit, and was wondering about something like, 'release me'?" she suggested. "I figure I'm going to have to say my fair share of 'no,' 'stop,' and 'let me go,'" she reasoned aloud.

Elliot cringed at the laundry list of phrases he would have to hear from her, but understood her point. "Yeah, that makes sense," he nodded.

"I know I won't say that accidentally, and I don't think that it is too far out there that it would raise a red flag."

"Okay," he said. "'Release me' it is." His voice trailed off as he looked at her with regret. He prayed that he wouldn't be responsible for doing something that would force her to utter those words.

She dropped her gaze, lowering the Pepsi to her lap, feeling self-conscious and wondering about its effectiveness anyway.

"You should put some actual ice on that," Elliot said pushing off of the wall to stand. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

She looked at him quizzically.

"There's nothing else you can do today anyway and Cragen already gave you the time."

She didn't know what she would do sitting at home, but also wasn't exactly eager to field stares from coworkers for the rest of the day given her current appearance.

"Okay," she agreed. "Thanks."

She hopped off the table and walked with him to the door. He held it open for her and she was halfway through before she stopped and turned to face him. "How bad is it?" she asked, crinkling her nose. If she was walking into a room full of people, she wanted to be prepared.

"Not great," he admitted.

She did her best to use her hair to cover as much of the left side of her face as possible. "Maybe you should go first," she said.

The situation wasn't exactly funny, but he couldn't help but smile. "Fair enough." He sidestepped through the gap left between her and the doorframe, the movement causing his chest to brush against hers as he slipped by.

Olivia's eyes drifted closed at the contact, caught off guard by her body's response. While she had always been aware of the fleeting touches between them, she had never felt so completely powerless to control her own reaction. It was as though a switch had been flipped the moment his hand had branded her skin, leaving her prone to aftershocks as her body yearned for more. She bit her lip, willing herself to ignore the heat spreading through her belly.

"Liv?" he asked, doubling back to check on her when he realized she hadn't followed.

Her eyes snapped open. "Sorry," she replied in embarrassment, quickly thinking up a feasible sounding excuse. "I've just had a headache all day, so this didn't exactly help things."

His brow furrowed in concern. "Are you dizzy?"

She almost laughed. _"Yes,_ _but_ _not_ _for_ _the_ _reasons_ _you'_ _re_ _thinking,"_ she thought. "No," she said. "No concussion."

He nodded; worry still clouding his features.

They made their way to the squad room, Olivia doing her best to follow closely at his heels so that she would attract the least amount of attention possible.

"I have to go grab my jacket," he said over his shoulder as they entered the room.

"Okay," she said, taking a seat at her desk and bringing up her left hand to shield her face.

Fin watched as Elliot disappeared toward the locker room and came to stand at her side.

"Hey," he said. "You sure you're okay?"

She nodded and gave him a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I'm good. From what I hear, that right hook of yours did the trick." Feeling sufficiently blocked by his body, she lifted her hair back.

Fin grimaced. "Yeah, it did."

She let her hair fall, her expression turning serious once more. "I'm sorry about El," she murmured.

"Nah," he shook his head. "I saw that coming a mile away." He punctuated his statement with a tap on her desk, returning to his own as he saw Elliot reenter the room.

"Ready?" Elliot asked her.

"Yeah."

The drive back to her apartment was considerably more relaxing than their morning commute, the tension having ebbed somewhat in the aftermath of their explosion in the interrogation room. Elliot insisted upon walking her upstairs, checking to make sure that she had an ample supply of ice and insisting that she let him inspect her pupils before he agreed to leave her alone.

Regardless, Olivia had to practically shove him out of her apartment, thrusting a spare key in his hand so that he wouldn't break down her door if she was napping and failed to answer her phone.

Once he had gone, she plopped down on the couch with a bag of ice, idly flipping through the selection of crappy daytime television programming before settling on some soap opera. She had no clue what was going on, but it was more for background noise than for anything else. She turned so that she was curled up on her side, eventually succeeding in finding a position that would allow the ice to rest on top of her cheek without her having to physically hold it in place. Her eyes felt heavy and she allowed them to close, succumbing to sleep before she even made it to the first commercial break.

* * *

Olivia awoke to a soft tapping at her door. Initially disoriented, she put the television on mute, wondering why it was so dark in her apartment. As she sat up, the bag of ice she had balanced on her cheek rolled down her body in a sloshy, watery mess, the now melted contents seeping out of the knotted plastic and dribbling down her shirt. She cursed at it, standing up and clumsily making her way into the kitchen to deposit it in the sink. The tapping noise sounded again and she flipped on the light, gazing out of the peephole to find Elliot pacing on the other side. She smoothed her hands over her hair and opened the door.

"I woke you," he said.

"It's okay," she shook her head. "I pretty much crashed as soon as you left."

"I won't keep you," he said nonchalantly. "I just stopped by to check in and to let you know that I got the transmitters from T.A.R.U."

She looked at him skeptically. "Oh? And you happened to find a pizza and a six pack along the way?" she asked with thinly veiled amusement.

"Oh, um, I thought you might be hungry and I figured I should replenish your supply," he stammered.

She smiled. "Come in, El," she said opening the door fully.

He nodded in acknowledgement and walked past her into the living room as she shut the door behind him. He put the pizza on the coffee table and brought the beer to the fridge, taking a couple of bottles out and using the countertop and a swift downward motion of his palm to remove the caps. He turned to face her, extending one of the beverages toward her, a slight smile on his lips.

A tingle ran down Olivia's spine, and she wondered when it had happened that she had suddenly turned into a love-struck teenager. If she didn't know him better, she would have sworn that the look was borderline flirtatious. But she did know him, she reasoned, and he was clearly back with her in her apartment to make sure that his partner was okay – because taking care of people was what Elliot Stabler did.

She took the bottle from him as he took a swig from his own.

"How's it feeling?" he asked, gesturing to her bruise.

"Better," she said, her hand darting up self-consciously to touch it.

"Swelling's gone down," he said, his eyes scanning her face.

"Oh, um, good," she responded, hastily turning away to tear off a couple of paper towels from the roll.

Elliot followed her lead, removing the plates they had used the night before from the drying rack and walking behind her into the living room.

Olivia sat cross-legged on the couch, while Elliot decided to sit on the floor. They ate in silence, neither of them apparently aware of the fact that the television remained muted. From Olivia's vantage point she was able to study him without his noticing, and she mused that she could get used to a nightly ritual that involved having him show up at her door with food in tow. She had never been in a position to share her space with someone else for a prolonged period of time, but as she watched him take another bite of his pizza, his legs stretched out on her rug, she was struck by the thought that things were as they should be. He just seemed to fit.

Before long, they had devoured nearly the entire pizza, and they were each nursing their second beer. Whether it was the lull that came about from being stuffed with the greasy food, or the effects of the alcohol loosening her tongue, she heard herself voice the question she had been asking herself since he showed up at her door.

"El, why did you come over tonight?" She spoke softly, grateful that his back was turned toward her.

He was quiet for a moment, still facing forward. "I don't know," he replied. "I needed to see you. I honestly don't know if it was more for you or for me."

She wasn't sure how to take that, so she said nothing.

Eventually he spoke again, shifting so that he could see her face. "Liv, I'd be lying if I told you that I'm not scared shitless about tomorrow night."

"I know," she murmured.

"I just," he hesitated. "I know what you told Huang, about what's at stake… how far to take this… But I guess what I'm asking is what exactly that means."

The question hung in the air, their eyes locked on one another. When Olivia finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I don't think we'll know until we get there."

He held her gaze, knowing that however much he hoped to be able to place the control in her hands, ultimately it would be up to him to make those decisions for the both of them. His mouth felt dry and he took a couple more swallows of his beer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the GPS transmitters. "Our lifelines," he explained, offering them to her with an upturned palm.

She scooted forward on the couch, taking one of them from him and not feeling at all reassured by the fact that the availability of their backup solely depended upon the tiny pieces of circuitry in their hands.

"I can keep them here if you like," she said. "The meeting place is only a few blocks away, so I guess it would make sense to leave from here."

Elliot nodded. "Okay."

Silence fell around them once more.

"I'll, uh, I'll let you get some rest," he said.

Neither of them wanted for him to leave, but Elliot didn't want to overstay his welcome or make it appear as though he didn't think she could take care of herself, and Olivia didn't want to come across as needy.

"Okay," she said, moving to stand.

As they reached the door, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and settled on, "Good night."

"Night," she replied.

He was into the hallway before she softly called after him.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll be okay." She saw the question in his eyes and continued. "Whatever happens tomorrow – whatever you need to do, I'll be okay."

* * *

Elliot arrived at Olivia's apartment early. He had been anxious enough thinking about the undercover op in the days before hand, but now that the night had finally arrived the adrenaline pumping through his veins had helped him to make the trip in half the time it normally would have taken to get from his place to hers. Elliot turned off the engine and took a deep breath, cranking his neck to try to release some of the tension. He was supposed to be the one in control after all. Both of their lives depended upon his ability to exude confidence, dominance, and power. If he couldn't even fool himself, he sure as hell wouldn't be able to fool anybody else. Olivia had said in no uncertain terms that she was willing to make any sacrifices necessary for the chance to be able to save that little girl, and if Olivia was putting so much trust in his hands Elliot was damned if he was going to let his nerves get the better of him.

If he was being honest with himself, part of what terrified him the most was the idea that the carefully constructed boundaries that they had both worked so hard at maintaining over the years were about to come crashing down for the sake of their cover. Granted this was in the guise of Carl and Tara, not Elliot and Olivia, but he had a feeling that however tonight played out, things would be irrevocably changed between them.

Throughout their partnership they had always trusted each other with their lives, and regardless of the rough patches and complexity of their relationship, the one unspoken understanding had always been the need to keep some physical distance between one another. They knew each other better than anyone else did in so many ways, which was due in great part to the nature of the job. Their experiences and their desire to protect others from the images that haunted them on a daily basis had naturally brought about an understanding of the other that was unparalleled in outside relationships – not with Kathy, and not with anyone with whom Olivia had gotten involved. The Gitano case had brought this closeness to the forefront, and after the dust had settled they had retreated even further into the safety net created by pushing the other away as a means to protect their partnership.

They had never been put in a position that demanded physical closeness, let alone one that required them to adopt the roles of perpetrator and victim. Elliot shuddered at the thought, especially given that the timing of this assignment came so close on the heels of the night that Olivia had nearly become a real-life victim at the hands of Harris. Elliot's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel remembering how helpless he felt at being powerless to protect her from outside the facility's walls.

He took the steps two at a time and knocked on the door. Not getting any response he used his key and entered the apartment to hear Olivia using the hairdryer in the bathroom. Elliot shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair before taking a seat on the couch, drumming his fingers on his knee. Elliot felt like pacing, but figured that Olivia was most likely as on edge as he was, and that it wouldn't help her any to come out and find him wearing a rut into her rug. When the hairdryer shut off Elliot called out, "Liv?"

"El?"

"Yeah, I let myself in. I just didn't want to startle you in case you didn't hear me over the dryer."

"No problem, I'll be out in a minute. Feel free to help yourself to anything."

Elliot's face blanched at the first thought that had come to mind when she said " _anything"_ and quickly stood to walk to the kitchen. Peering in the refrigerator his instinct was to grab a beer but thought better of it and pulled out a bottle of water instead. He could hold his alcohol with the best of them, but figured that he would have to order some sort of stiff drink at the club to fit the profile and decided that he wanted that to be the first drink of the night. They were going into this thing unarmed, and he wanted to make sure he was alert and ready for whatever situation they might be thrown into.

Olivia stood staring at herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, trying to calm her heart that was pounding in her chest. Olivia was wearing a little black dress that left little to the imagination – something that she'd imagine Carl would have bought for Tara to show off his possession to the world. She self-consciously tugged at the hem, willing it to grow an inch or two, which was immediately undone by her efforts to pull up the neckline in attempts to cover up more of her chest. She cursed at the thing and decided with a frustrated sigh that it was better to show off a little more leg than the alternative. She slipped into stiletto heels that she had chosen as much for a potential weapon than anything else, since that would be all that she would have. She inspected the bruise on her cheek, the purple standing out against her otherwise even skin tone. She had put on enough makeup to make it look as though she was trying to conceal it, even though the whole idea was for it to be noticed. She was doing her best to remain focused on the little girl, reminding herself that nothing that happened tonight could possibly compare to what this child had been going through for God knows how long. "You can do this," she whispered to her reflection, and with a nod, turned and exited the bathroom.

Olivia found Elliot in her kitchen, his back to her as he sipped on a bottle of water. If she had thought that her nerves would calm at his presence, she was most definitely mistaken. Her heart rate quickened even more, if this was humanly possible. He turned and her breath caught at his appearance. He was wearing a black silk button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up enough to reveal his muscular forearms, and a pair of faded blue jeans that clung to him in all the right places. "Hey," she managed.

While Olivia was struggling to find her voice, Elliot had been attempting to remember how to swallow the mouthful of water he had taken before he had turned in her direction. Thankfully he managed to do this without choking and attempted a nonchalant clearing of his throat before responding, "Hey." He did his best to keep his eyes on her face while he added, "You look, um, you look…."

She saved him with a, "You're not so bad yourself," before fidgeting a bit with the bracelet on her arm.

"Do you want some water?" he asked her. "We still have some time," he added gesturing to the clock behind her. 8:40pm. Twenty minutes to go.

"No thanks. I'm fine," she responded.

 _I_ _'_ _m_ _fine._ Elliot's stomach churned at the words. He had been hearing them a lot from her lately, as if by repeating them she was convincing herself of this as much as she was saying them for his benefit. His gaze drifted to the bruise on her cheek and Olivia noticed and quickly turned to walk into the living room. Elliot couldn't help but think of the other bruise that had marked the same side, though a bit lower, several months before. Elliot resisted the urge to catch her wrist before she could walk away, and instead opted to follow her to the other room. Olivia carefully lowered herself on the couch, doing her best to maneuver in a way that would cause her hemline to rise up the least possible amount. As an after thought she pulled one of the throw pillows onto her lap, relaxing a bit at being able to have a few more minutes' worth of coverage. It wasn't that she was insecure about her body, but there was something about being put on display in this way that she had never been truly comfortable with. Especially having spent so many years trying to prove herself in the boys' club of the NYPD. _E_ _specially_ since being around Elliot somehow always managed to make her feel more vulnerable since he could read her so well, and this time she wasn't able to hide behind the no nonsense attire that helped to bolster her confidence at the precinct.

Elliot played with the cap on his water bottle and waited until she looked comfortable before taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch. Olivia traced the embroidery on the pillow with her index finger, finding it difficult to look in his direction. Elliot knew that she was doing her best to appear as though she was just killing time, but knew that she was as unsettled as he was. "Liv," he began carefully, "Do you still want to go through with this?"

Olivia was touched by the gesture. He knew as well as she did that it would be damn near impossible to back out at this point, with Cragen ready to send in the cavalry once they activated the second transmitter. Still, Elliot was giving her an out, and was prepared to back her up and weather the fallout alongside her. "Yeah," she replied giving him a small smile. "I think we owe it to this little girl to give it our best shot."

Elliot nodded. He hadn't expected any other answer from her, but still felt better having asked.

Olivia reached into a small bowl on the coffee table. She picked up the transmitters and gestured to her outfit. "I can't seem to figure out where to put these," she joked trying to lighten the mood. She handed them to Elliot who placed one in each pocket, smoothing his hands over them to test for the possibility of them being discovered if he were frisked. Elliot seemed satisfied and glanced at the clock again. 8:48pm. Olivia caught his eye and nodded. They stood and slowly walked toward the door. Elliot reached for Olivia's black leather jacket and held it open for her. Olivia slid her arms into the sleeves making a mental note that chivalry was not dead, although she also realized that on any other night he probably would have tossed it to her as they both headed to a crime scene. She knew that Elliot was doing what he could now to make up for the fact that as Carl he would have to mistreat her for the rest of the evening.

Elliot put on his own jacket, and had one hand on the doorknob before he stopped abruptly and turned to face her. Olivia was momentarily caught off guard and her momentum caused her to wind up standing closer to him than normal. She breathed in his scent before stepping back with a questioning look in her eyes.

"I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to know that you can feel free to say no," he began.

Olivia felt her heartbeat quicken, though she wasn't quite sure why she was suddenly so nervous. "What, El?" she asked in a small voice.

Elliot held her gaze for a long moment before asking, "Would it be alright if I kissed you?"

Olivia froze. "K-kissed me?" she stammered. Her wide eyes were locked on Elliot who remained silent, and she managed to add, "You mean, n-now?"

Elliot nodded breaking their eye contact to look at Olivia's lips before meeting her gaze again. "I know that tonight will be difficult for both of us," he paused, "and I don't even want to think about what I might have to say or do," his voice cracked. "I know that I shouldn't even be asking you this, but I keep thinking that if anything were to happen," he hesitated, "I don't want you to think that the person I have to be tonight, is anything like what I would be like if…" he trailed off. "I mean, I would never…" he looked down, struggling to find the words.

Olivia was afraid to move or breathe in case she would cause whatever was happening in front of her right now to stop.

Elliot eventually stopped looking for the right words, figuring Olivia had already been able to understand what he was trying to convey. Instead he looked up at her once again and said simply, "Can I kiss you?"

Olivia felt light-headed, and was almost positive she was dreaming this whole thing. She wasn't sure if she would have any voice if she attempted to speak, but she heard herself whisper, "Yes."

Elliot slowly raised his right hand, trailing his fingertips gently over her bruised cheekbone before traveling to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. His hand continued its path as he raked his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head and slowly coming to rest upon the nape of her neck while he caressed her ear with his thumb. Olivia shivered and leaned into his touch, mesmerized by the deepening blue of his eyes. Elliot brought his left hand underneath her jacket to rest lightly upon her waist while he took a step forward to close the distance between them. Olivia's eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed lightly over her cheek, his breath hot on her skin. Elliot pulled back slightly to look at her before ever so gently brushing his lips against hers. Olivia made a small sound, and Elliot pulled her close, feeling her tremble against him. Elliot captured her lips with his own, darting his tongue out to taste her. Olivia responded by wrapping her arms around him, parting her lips further to allow him to have greater access. Elliot took the invitation, deepening the kiss and caressing her tongue with his. When they finally broke apart Elliot rested his forehead against hers and brought both hands up to frame her face. He pulled back to look her in her eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up into a small smile. He leaned forward again to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and murmured, "Thank you."

Olivia did not have time to respond, as they had less than ten minutes left to reach the meeting point. Elliot shortened his stride to match hers, hindered by her choice of footwear, though they still arrived at the corner with time to spare. The fall air was chilly and Olivia silently cursed her attire, each gust of wind biting at her bare legs. Olivia had never felt as unprepared to go into an undercover op as she did tonight. Her head was still spinning and she was struggling unsuccessfully to think about anything other than the way it felt to have Elliot pressed against her. Elliot had been having a similar struggle, although his anxiety about the role he had to play was beginning to take over more with every passing minute. Olivia noticed his tension in the way his eyes scanned the dark street, and the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest hoping that she would become numb soon. Elliot approached her in two quick strides so that he was standing beside her. He hooked his right arm around her neck figuring that the gesture would look possessive, while also affording her some warmth. "Thanks," Olivia said under her breath.

He turned his head so that he spoke into her ear. "Liv, remember, just say the words at any time and we stop. No matter what."

"Yeah," she whispered, noting at the same time he did the black Lincoln town car with tinted windows that was slowly approaching.

Elliot narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, putting more weight into the arm around Olivia's neck causing her to bend toward him.

Showtime.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Note:_

 _The club chapter... **CAVEAT FOR ALL READERS - PLEASE TAKE NOTE: THIS STORY GOES TO REALLY DARK PLACES. The content in this chapter is not easy to read, and certain aspects may be upsetting/re-traumatizing for some people.** I was terrified to post this chapter all those years ago, and am still nervous to post it (for new readers) today... There is a reason this story is called 'Breaking Point'..._

 _Music for this chapter was really important for me. The club was all about Massive Attack while I wrote this: "Black Milk" and "Angel" from their Mezzanine album, and "Butterfly Caught" and "Antistar" from their 100th Window album. I make a reference to trip-hop music in this chapter, and the aforementioned songs encapsulate what I hear in my head when I picture Elliot and Olivia there._

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

The Lincoln slowed to a stop in front of them, and a large man that was best described as a bouncer-type got out of the front passenger door. "You Carl?" he asked.

"Who's asking?" Elliot replied with a steely glare.

The man took a few menacing steps in his direction, staring him down before slowly walking around them and stopping inches from Elliot's face. When Elliot showed no signs of intimidation he chuckled and backed off a bit before saying, "Who I am is not important. What you need to know is that I work for Nikolai, and I would strongly advise you to answer his questions on the first try." He accentuated this last statement by opening the left side of his jacket to reveal the gun holstered on his hip.

Elliot's eyes remained icy but he said, "Yeah, I'm Carl."

The man shifted his attention and leered at Olivia, looking her up and down in a predatory fashion. Olivia averted her gaze as he approached her. He reeked of cigarettes and sweat. "And who might you be?" he asked.

Olivia glanced up at Elliot, which was difficult given the way she was pinned against him, silently asking his permission to answer the question.

"Answer the man," Elliot responded with another tug of his arm around her neck.

"Tara," she said quietly, her eyes glued to the ground.

The man smiled at Elliot, obviously enjoying the dynamic he had just witnessed between them.

"Well then," he said moving to open the back door, "I think you have somewhere that you're trying to be, no?"

Elliot removed his arm from Olivia and instead took hold of her left wrist as he moved toward the car, sliding across the backseat and pulling Olivia in after him. When they were both inside, the man shut the door and returned to his spot in the front passenger seat. The driver continued to look forward, and Elliot and Olivia uneasily heard the sound of the automatic door locks clicking into place when he shifted into gear. The thug turned around to face them as they started to drive off, tossing two black hoods in their direction while he held up his gun as a warning. "Put them on," he ordered.

"What the fuck is this?" Elliot demanded.

"You want to reap the rewards you do as I say. Nobody sees where this club is, nobody gets hurt." With that he cocked the gun and pointed it at Olivia.

Olivia's breathing quickened as she stared down the barrel. "C-Carl?" she asked with a desperate tinge to her voice.

"Here baby, put this on," Elliot said, handing her one of the hoods. "This better be worth it," he glowered at the man before pulling the other one over his head, relieved when he heard him uncock his gun.

"Oh don't worry," the man snickered, turning back to face the road. "Haven't had a disappointed customer yet."

* * *

The hood was opaque, which meant that Olivia was enveloped in total darkness. If there was one thing that unnerved her more than anything else, it was being unable to scan her environment for potential danger, something that she relied upon so heavily in the field. Granted at present, she rationalized, they no longer posed any threat in their current state, so she figured the chances of them being gunned down in the backseat were pretty slim. Unfortunately, her body was not listening to her logic. Her heart was racing and her other senses were on overdrive. She felt every bump, jostle, and turn more acutely, and she had long since lost track of which direction they were headed, which made the thought of ripping the damn hood off of her head all the more tempting. Suddenly the car slammed into a large pothole. Her left hand instinctively darted out to brace herself and she found herself gripping onto something firm and unyielding and what she quickly realized was Elliot's leg, just above his knee. Embarrassed, she snatched her hand away as though she had been burned and took hold of the edge of the seat instead.

Elliot smiled beneath his hood, understanding her reaction. He would have liked to move to reassure her by holding her hand, but as Carl, he figured that exuding ownership was key, so he reached over to her and put his hand on her upper thigh.

Olivia's breath hitched. If he had been trying to distract her from the bumpy ride, he had certainly succeeded. Whereas a moment prior her obscured vision had brought the unpredictable motion of the car to the forefront, this had now been completely eclipsed by the sensation of his hand on her skin. This was yet another first to add to what was becoming an increasingly long list of things that she had never thought would happen with Elliot Stabler – ever. It was appropriate under the guise of his cover, she reasoned, and she tried to remind herself that it did not necessarily mean anything. There had been a time when she had driven herself crazy by reading into every lingering glance, every infinitesimal shift in body language, every perceived indication that there might be a glimmer of hope at the possibility of developing a relationship that extended beyond friendship. She could not do that to herself again. It only ended up resulting in disappointment.

But then there was the kiss. She closed her eyes, once again losing herself in the recollection. There had been something contained within that kiss that had been unlike anything she had ever experienced. He had regarded her with such tenderness – reverence, almost. The way that he had caressed her with his hands, his lips, his tongue, had been as though he had been committing her to memory – a way to hold on to something pure, untouched by the ugliness of the night to come. She swallowed and realized that she could still taste him. She shivered, and he must have thought that she was cold because he increased the gentle pressure of his hand, running his thumb back and forth along the outside of her thigh. She froze, desperately trying to regain some of her control.

Elliot felt her muscle tense beneath him, and he stilled the movement of his thumb but did not remove his hand. He had meant the gesture to be helpful. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her feel more uncomfortable.

As the minutes stretched on, Olivia found herself relaxing somewhat as she grew accustomed to the reassuring warmth of his palm. Now, when the car made a quick turn or hit a bumpy patch of pavement, Elliot's fingers would curl around her, grounding her in the blackness.

Eventually they came to a stop, and were ushered somewhat forcefully from the car, blindly stumbling forward with the encouragement of some shoves to the back before finally being granted their sight back when they reached a dark hallway.

"Against the wall," the man ordered as he yanked their hoods and jackets off, moving to pat Elliot down.

Elliot did nothing to mask his annoyance though he complied with the request. "Don't you think I would have tried something by now if I was packing?" he asked, his palms against the wall. He hoped that the transmitters would escape detection, worrying that they might be more noticeable than he had thought when he checked them at Olivia's apartment. Thankfully the man did not seem to notice, either because he was concentrating on looking for something more bulky, or perhaps because he was distracted by the conversation.

"Well, we can't be too careful now, can we?" he responded, his words taking on new meaning as he smirked, turning his attentions to Olivia.

She gritted her teeth as his filthy hands lingered longer than necessary over her curves.

"You satisfied, yet?" Elliot snarled, taking a step toward her.

The man smiled slyly, moving his hands even more slowly over her hips and butt. "I think so," he replied, punctuating his statement with a smack of his hand.

Olivia resisted the urge to whirl around and break his arm clean off. She straightened as his hands finally fell away, and was relieved when Elliot moved to her side wrapping his arm possessively around her middle, his hand resting on her hip.

"Follow me," the man continued, leading them down the hall.

The floor was made of cement, and they had not passed any windows, leading Elliot to wonder whether they were underground. As they approached the door at the far end of the corridor, they began to hear the sounds of muted bass resonating from the room beyond. Another guard stood at the end of the hall and he nodded as they approached, swinging open the door that looked as though it should belong on the entrance to a bomb shelter. They passed through and heard as it closed behind them with a metallic clank.

The room before them was expansive. The walls were painted red and the floor black, the only illumination emanating from candles, sparse track lighting and strategically placed crystal sconces along the wall. The effect was dramatic, as much of the room was left in darkness while the rest was basked in an eerie crimson glow. Black leather upholstered couches and booths were scattered along the walls, with tables in front of many that were draped in what appeared to be satin tablecloths in shades of red and gold, the candlelight flickering and reflecting off of the iridescent fabric. Mottled glass dividers served to create separation throughout the vast space, also acting as visual blockades for a few areas of the club for those patrons who wished to have some privacy.

They were escorted past the bar, with an extensive and expensive looking collection of liquors, the colors of the bottles reflecting off of a mirrored shelving system. The counter was made of a frosted white glass, lit from beneath and illuminating the face of the bartender whose body cast shadows along the wall and ceiling as he moved. As they rounded the corner, they passed one of the couches where a scantily clad woman reclined across a man's lap, a tourniquet on her arm as another man injected her with some sort of drug, most likely heroin. Continuing on, they passed several more shadowy couples engaged in various sex acts, any sounds they made drowned out by the melancholy trip-hop music echoing throughout the space.

At the far side of the room they saw a stage where a woman's lithe body was spiraling down a pole, her movements captivating those seated nearby. Elliot felt Olivia stiffen beside him and looked over to see what had captured her attention. Beyond the stage the adjacent wall was made of glass, showcasing a series of recessed rooms. Yet instead of a traditional peep show, Nikolai's version revealed women being forcibly held down, beaten, and raped, some by a single man, some trapped with as many as five. As Elliot and Olivia watched, one woman was slammed into the glass, her face contorted in an anguished cry that was inaudible to the spectators on the outside. Olivia shuddered and Elliot tightened his grip on her hip, pulling her closely against him as they continued to follow their guide.

Eventually the man turned to face them, gesturing to a booth nestled in an alcove created by two of the glass partitions and the back wall. It was relatively secluded but still afforded them a view of the bulk of the club. Elliot turned into Olivia, placing both hands on her hips as he directed her forward. She slid along the cushion as he followed closely behind her, his right arm draping across the top of the seat back behind her as his left rested on the table.

The man grinned at Elliot. "Enjoy," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Shortly after he had left, a woman approached them to take drink orders.

"Jack Daniels on the rocks," he responded.

She turned toward Olivia. "What about–"

"She's not having anything," he snapped, glaring at her menacingly for even acknowledging Olivia's presence.

"S-sorry," she stammered, ducking her head as she slunk back toward the bar.

"Bastard," Olivia cursed under her breath.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, grabbing her by the hair.

She winced.

Carl's temper had just made its first appearance, and it caught Olivia slightly off guard.

" _What_ was that?" he hissed in her ear.

"N-nothing," she replied.

He wrenched her head to the side, trailing the back of his other hand down the side of her face and neck. "Say you're sorry," he purred.

The aggressiveness of his hold coupled with the seductive gentleness of the gesture unnerved her. "Sorry," she mumbled, goosebumps standing out where his breath met her skin.

"I didn't get that," he gritted, jerking her head back.

"I'm s-sorry," she repeated.

He released her roughly, resuming his prior position, though this time his right arm curled around her neck, his hand grazing her breast. She was tucked closely into his side, his body warming away the chills brought about by his earlier actions. She felt the tension in his muscles ebb away and watched as he extended his left hand toward the candle, his fingers dancing through the flame.

The woman returned with his drink, placing it down and hurriedly walking away as he studied her with contempt.

He lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the contents around with a circular motion of his hand before draining half of it in one swallow. He knew that Olivia was as on edge as he was, and undoubtedly pissed as hell at him for denying her a drink, but he wanted to be one hundred percent certain her judgment was not impaired for every last second that they were stuck in this hell hole. His eyes roamed the room, trying to appear as though he was enjoying the view. As his eyes drifted toward the bar, he noticed a shadowy figure emerge from a door along the wall, flanked by two imposing looking bodyguards.

Elliot quickly returned his gaze to the pole dancer, forcing himself to look both amused and aroused as he watched as she tried to free herself from the clutches of two men that had scaled the stage and were forcibly hauling her to the floor. Elliot flattened his palm along Olivia's chest, skimming it back and forth along the tops of her breasts as his left hand resumed its prior manipulation of the candle flame. He turned his head toward her. "Nikolai," he breathed into her ear.

She shivered against him, wanting nothing more than to stay exactly where she was at that moment, but she understood what she needed to do and so she attempted to pull away. Elliot allowed her to move far enough so that it made it more apparent when he yanked her back against him. He shifted toward her in the seat so that her back was now flush against his chest, his right hand holding her in place while his left arm snaked around her middle. This position caused Olivia to be slightly reclined, drawing more attention to the quick rise and fall of her chest, her breasts barely concealed by the low cut fabric of her dress. Her head rested against his shoulder, his mouth brushing her temple as he drawled, "Now just where do you think you're going?"

She arched against him, trying to free herself from his grasp, her eyes wide as she made it appear as though she was afraid of him.

"Uh-uh-uh," he reprimanded, drawing his left hand along her stomach as his right moved to massage her breast.

Her eyes drifted closed, but she still attempted to wriggle out of his hold, whimpering when he tweaked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He hauled her further up along his body, perching her on his thigh. He released her breast, trailing his hand up to the juncture of her throat and jaw, turning her face to his as he bent down and captured her lips with his own. She fought against his hand, trying to turn away from him. He held her in place, using his left arm to pivot her around to face him as he deepened the kiss, tangling his hand in her hair. She tasted the traces of his whiskey as his tongue invaded her mouth and wished that the remnants of alcohol could be strong enough to calm her jittery nerves. As it was, she felt as though her heart was about to explode from the adrenaline.

She brought her hands up between them, pushing against the solid wall of his chest as hard as she could, her arms shaking from the strain. He countered her efforts by quickly raising his left arm from her waist to her upper back, easily preventing her from pulling away. She was finding it difficult to catch her breath, her body struggling against the urge to submit to his advances as her mind forced her to continue to fight him. Eventually he ripped his mouth from hers as they both gasped for air. Their eyes locked, and for a moment all was stripped away as neither did anything to mask their desire. Olivia flushed and ducked her head, knowing that Elliot had seen the way she had looked at him. Elliot had every reason to look at her the way that he did as part of his cover, but she wasn't supposed to be turned on; she was supposed to be terrified.

For his part, Elliot was completely aware of the fact that his current loss of control had absolutely nothing to do with the undercover op. He wanted nothing more than to see that look in her eyes again – as though something had been unleashed within her – and to know that he was the cause of it.

Knowing full well that his motivations were purely selfish, he moved his hand to grab her chin, tilting her head up to face him. She swallowed as he held her gaze, awareness plastered across his features. This time the fear in her eyes was real. She knew that Elliot had just seen straight through every single protective barrier she had ever constructed to conceal the depths of her feelings for him.

His eyes darkened and he bent forward, his lips descending on her neck as his hand returned to cup the back of her head. He trailed a path down her neck, licking and biting and sucking on the tender flesh. When he reached the base of her throat he pulled her head to the side, suckling on a spot just above her collarbone, unable to resist the urge to mark her as his own. A smile tugged at his lips as he realized she would probably kill him for this tomorrow. A shudder passed through her. She knew what he was doing, but instead of feeling anger at his possessiveness, she found it incredibly erotic.

Still operating under the assumption that they had been able to get Nikolai's attention, she continued her struggles against him, pushing and twisting to try to break free of his grasp. "Stop," she said.

He snapped his head up, tightening his grip on her hair and forcing her head back as he glared down at her. "Shut up," he barked.

"Let me go!"

He moved his hands, grabbing her roughly by her upper arms, shaking her. "I said shut the fuck up."

She brought up her hands intending to pummel his chest and he caught her wrists in midair, yanking her toward him, stealing a glance in Nikolai's direction in the process. They had most definitely caught his attention.

Elliot let go of her left wrist, using his free arm to pull her against him. She fell forward, her chest pressing against his, her head over his shoulder. He moved his mouth over her ear. "Transmitter," he whispered.

She arched backwards trying to push herself off of him with her left hand. He maintained his hold on her right wrist, his other hand gripping her hip, and began to shove her down his body.

"No!" she cried. She thrashed as much as possible, but eventually lost the battle as she slid to the ground.

Once she was concealed beneath the table, Elliot relaxed his hold on her, infinitely grateful for the visual barrier provided by the tablecloth. Olivia was trying to catch her breath, every muscle in her body tense as she knelt at his feet. As if sensing her anxiety, Elliot brought both of his hands up to rest lightly on her shoulders, tracing soothing concentric circles along her shoulder blades. After a few moments, he withdrew his right hand, sliding it into his pocket and handing her the first transmitter. She activated it, locking the small switch into position. She handed it back to him and he replaced it with the shared understanding that if something went wrong they would want to make sure they still had it in their possession to deactivate it. Provided Nikolai approached them as anticipated, they would have to find a place to stash it whenever they got to the next room.

Another minute went by and Olivia waited for some signal from Elliot. She felt physically and emotionally drained and allowed herself to rest her head against his knee. He ran his fingers through her hair, thankful for the opportunity to offer her some gentleness. She closed her eyes, relishing the contact, taking comfort in the repetitive motion of his hand. Despite the inherent danger of the operation, at that moment Elliot had managed to make her feel completely safe.

Unfortunately, just as soon as she had begun to relax, his hand stilled, his fingers tensing against her.

"Mr. Edwards," Nikolai spoke. "Enjoying my establishment?"

Elliot smiled. "Yeah, nice place you got here."

"Trust me when I say that you don't want her to finish," he leered gesturing to the table. "I can make it worth your while."

"Oh?" Elliot asked, his eyebrows arching in interest. He straightened, hauling Olivia up from underneath the table. Somewhere along the process of sliding up his body her leg managed to brush across his lap, the effect instantaneous as he hardened beneath her. He clenched his jaw, relieved that this had not happened on her way down.

If Olivia noticed, she didn't let on. She drew the back of her hand along her mouth, looking at him in confusion and fear before peering over at Nikolai, noting the two bodyguards that stood a few feet away.

Nikolai raked his eyes over her body. "Yes," he smirked, addressing Elliot while continuing his slimy appraisal of Olivia. "I think we can come up with a…partnership of sorts."

Elliot cocked his head, a slow smile spreading across his features. "What did you have in mind?"

"Please," Nikolai said, gesturing for Elliot to join him a few feet away.

Elliot shifted, slightly unzipping and re-zipping his fly beneath the table to complete the illusion before standing to follow.

They walked out of earshot, and Olivia tried to shake the lingering feeling of revulsion from Nikolai's scrutiny. She dug her nails into her palms, missing Elliot's reassuring presence at her side. Nikolai turned from his conversation with Elliot to look at her, a sinister gleam in his eye. Elliot followed his gaze, a similar expression darkening his features. A chill ran down her spine.

He stalked toward her.

"Get up," he commanded.

Nothing about this Elliot was reassuring. She did as she was instructed, sliding along the booth somewhat hesitantly. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her to her feet and dragging her behind him to return to Nikolai.

Nikolai led the way, eventually stopping to open a door at the end of the hall. He gestured for Elliot to enter, and Elliot did so, all the while maintaining a firm grasp on Olivia's wrist as he pulled her along with him. Nikolai slid his hand underneath his suit jacket, pulling out a gun that had been concealed beneath. He motioned for one of his bodyguards to station himself outside of the door as he stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. Elliot and Olivia's hearts sank as they heard what sounded like a deadbolt being snapped into place from the outside.

They were trapped.

Their eyes scanned the room. Whereas the rest of the club had been sleek, designed to appeal to what was probably a large percentage of clientele that had a great deal of money, this room was dingy and barren. It was fairly small, the bulk of the space being taken up by a dirty mattress that rested on an old box spring in the middle of the room. A cold feeling of dread began to spread through Elliot's system as he realized that the reason it was not pushed up against one of the walls was most likely to permit Nikolai to view the 'show' from all angles. Throughout the hours that Elliot had agonized over the undercover op, he had managed to convince himself that he would be able to position himself and Olivia in a way that would obstruct Nikolai's view. Ideally, Elliot had hoped that the bed would be in a corner, flush against two walls, but he had also thought about scenarios in which the bed would be placed against one wall – either at the head or one of the sides. Any of these situations would have afforded them at least one blind zone where Nikolai would have been unable to stand. Elliot had been counting on this, because it would have meant that he could have used the angle to his advantage, further concealing Olivia's body with his own, and therefore succeeding in being able to simulate the entire thing. This… _this_ … Nikolai would have free access to view them from all sides.

Olivia winced. Elliot's hand had progressively tightened around her wrist as he internally panicked, and was now constricting to the point of bruising. She turned to him. She knew that look. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed, creating the illusion of confidence and intimidating to those who did not know him better, but the almost imperceptible change in his breathing pattern meant that he was feeling anything _but_ in control of the situation. She decided to speak to try to get his attention, her own nerves evident in her tone. "Carl, what's going on?"

Her use of that name forced Elliot from his train of thought and, although painful, he turned to her, his eyes devoid of affection and his lips curled up into a derisive smile. He said nothing.

Olivia looked fearfully between Elliot and Nikolai. "Carl?" she tried again, her tone becoming more desperate.

Nikolai took several menacing steps toward her, lifting the hand that held his gun and using the cold metal to trace a slow, terrifying path down her neck, her breasts, along her side and the curve of her hip as he spoke. "Well, you see, Carl and I have made certain… arrangements," he drawled.

It was all that Elliot could do not to disarm the bastard and end things there and then, but he did nothing, instead appearing to actually take pleasure in witnessing Nikolai's actions.

As Nikolai finished speaking, he lifted the gun to the side of her face, using it to tilt her head toward the mattress – the dirty, stained mattress that looked all too familiar. She brought her eyes back to his, only minimally surprised to feel the hint of tears beginning to form. It was not going to be difficult for her to tap into the emotions needed to put on a convincing performance. As it was, she was already finding that the boundaries between fiction and reality were becoming ever more blurred. The fact that Elliot, her Elliot, was standing beside her was not enough to prevent the chill she had felt at they way in which he had looked at her a moment ago – without any compassion or recognition.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, causing her breasts to strain against and above the constricting fabric of her dress, which only succeeded in fueling Nikolai's twisted enjoyment of her distress. He brought the gun back along the curves of her breasts, this time moving to trail it down her stomach and pelvis. When he reached the hem of her dress he lingered, stroking the bare skin of her leg before dragging the gun slowly and deliberately up her inner thigh.

Olivia let out a frightened whimper as he brushed the metal against her core.

Elliot released his grasp on her wrist as he stepped forward, fists clenched, unable to prevent himself from reacting to the violation.

Nikolai laughed, accepting Elliot's actions as a possessive display rather than a defensive one and withdrawing his hand. "By all means," he said, making a sweeping gesture in her direction. "After all, it's your show."

Olivia turned to Elliot, placing her palms on his chest and looking up at him with a panicked expression. "Carl, please! Please take me home," she begged. "Please don't do this!"

Elliot still said nothing, ignoring her pleas and looking at Nikolai with a smirk on his face.

Nikolai's eyes flashed with anticipation.

Olivia shook her head repeatedly as the tears started to fall. "Please, please don't do this. Please, please no."

Elliot turned his attention back to her, and she watched as his eyes darkened and a predatory look passed across his features.

Olivia shuddered, partly from fear, partly from desire at the animalistic way he was regarding her. "No, no, no," she murmured repetitively as she backed away from him, her chin quivering.

He stalked toward her, impossibly slowly, the tension in the air electric. He had not made a move to touch her yet, but with every step he was encroaching on her space, intimidating her, using his body to remind her of the fact that she was completely at his mercy.

With every step that he took, Olivia backed away further. Silent tears streamed down her face as she pleaded with her eyes for him to stop.

Elliot's expression did not betray any of the inner turmoil he felt at seeing Olivia reduced to tears. Whereas he understood that she, too, had a role to play, he knew that the emotions she was experiencing were all too real. He longed to be able to take her in his arms, hold her, comfort her, to once again become the person with whom she felt safe, protected – not the man that was frightening her and causing her such pain. Yet he knew what was at stake, and so the only expression he permitted to cross his features was one of cold amusement at her terror.

He took another step forward, and this time when Olivia attempted to move away she was stopped abruptly as her back met the wall. She flattened herself against it as he closed in, dwarfing her body with his own. He leaned forward, his face millimeters from hers, studying her before moving his mouth to hover over her ear.

Olivia was trembling.

"There's no place to run," he purred dangerously, his breath hot against her skin.

She whimpered, shutting her eyes and turning her head to the side.

He grabbed her chin forcefully, wrenching her head back to face him as he slammed his left palm against the wall, a mere inch away from her.

She flinched, letting out a small sob as he gave her no choice but to look into his angry eyes.

"I own you," he gritted, snaking his hand behind her to yank her head back by her hair. "You can scream, you can beg, but I'll take what's mine," he growled.

With that his mouth crashed down onto hers, his tongue immediately invading her mouth, muffling her cry of protest. The kiss was hard and forceful, the polar opposite of the kiss they had shared at her apartment, but, God, it was Elliot's lips, teeth, tongue, taking from her, demanding compliance as he pressed himself against her. She could do nothing to prevent her body's reaction to him.

He ground his pelvis against hers and she let out a moan, barely audible as he continued his onslaught against her mouth. She realized that she wasn't supposed to be enjoying any part of this, and she started to fight him, using all of her strength to try to push him off of her, arching back trying to dislodge the vise grip he had on her head.

He was too strong. Her efforts did nothing to loosen his grasp, but he eventually pulled back as though he were angry at her attempts to dissuade him. He moved his hands, gripping her upper arms and shaking her hard, slamming her back against the wall as he pinned her against it.

She cried out in pain, though somewhere in her mind it registered that he had actually pulled her toward him ever so slightly to prevent her from hitting the wall at full force.

From somewhere behind Elliot, Olivia heard Nikolai's laughter. The sound confirmed what they had already known about him: the greater their struggle, the more violent Elliot became, the greater Nikolai's perverse enjoyment at witnessing Olivia's suffering. For the briefest of moments she saw a flicker of a question dancing across Elliot's features. She answered him by increasing her attempts to fight him in the only way she could. Still pinned tightly against the wall, she bent her arms at the elbows to use her hands to push against the hard planes of Elliot's chest, squirming as much as she could to try to break free of his grasp. She didn't have much range of motion but she managed to get in one good kick, connecting with his shin.

Olivia had just upped the ante. Elliot realized that she knew her action would force his hand. They knew these profiles backwards and forwards. "Bitch," he cursed, raising his hand and slapping her across the face.

Olivia cried out again, cowering away from him.

He grabbed both of her wrists in his left hand, pinning them above her head as he used one of his legs to force hers apart, moving between them and effectively preventing her from using them to defend herself.

She sniffed, taking a few uncoordinated, shuddering breaths as she quietly sobbed before him.

He lifted his right hand, his thumb tracing lazily over the dips and curves of her collarbone before raising his hand to encircle the column of her throat.

She whimpered, her eyes widening in fear as his fingers gradually tightened around her.

"You know," he warned, "you're just making this harder on yourself." He studied her coolly as she fought for breath.

In truth, his grasp was firm, but not to the extent that he was blocking her airway. Olivia held her breath to help the effect, her face turning red as she mimicked gasping for air. She pulled against the hand holding her wrists above her to no avail, eventually allowing her body to go slack in submission as her oxygen slowly depleted.

He released his stranglehold on her at this point, using his body to support her weight as she coughed, her chest heaving as she took in large gulps of air. Barely affording her a moment to collect herself, he held her gaze as he drew his hand down her reddened throat to cup her breast through her dress, squeezing it in his palm and drawing his thumb across her nipple.

She drew in a sharp intake of breath, her nipple hardening immediately at the sensation.

He leered at her, making no attempts to hide the fact that he was well aware of her reaction. "Like I said," he rumbled smugly, flattening his palm and slowly drawing it down her abdomen, "I own you." He continued the downward motion of his palm, his heart in his throat as he deliberately pushed forward against the material of her dress so that his hand brushed across her center.

She let out a sound that was a mixture between a whimper and a moan, tears spilling out over her cheeks as her eyes drifted closed.

"Spin her around," Nikolai commanded.

Elliot set his jaw. The bastard wanted a better view.

Olivia's eyes snapped open to meet his. "Please, no," she choked. "Carl, please, please let me go."

Elliot swallowed, recognizing the deliberate use of that name as her means of communicating with him. He used the hand holding her wrists to pull her from the wall, never letting go as he pivoted to stand behind her. Once their positions were reversed, he brought her arms down so that they folded against her chest, only then releasing his grip on her wrists to wrap his arm around her, pinning her arms to her chest and her body against his. He leaned back against the wall, pulling her off balance so that she would not have the leverage needed to struggle.

Olivia sobbed against him as she faced Nikolai, watching as he stared lasciviously in her direction. She trembled under his scrutiny, and he shifted his gaze to smile at Elliot, who bit back the bile rising in his throat and smirked in response.

However futile, Olivia attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, trying to make her body as heavy as possible in attempts to make it more difficult for Elliot to restrain her. He might as well have been holding a feather; he used his left arm to haul her more tightly against his chest, easily preventing her from escaping. "I thought I made myself clear," he said against her ear. He slid his right hand down her thigh, digging his fingers into her flesh before drawing his hand back up to move over her stomach. He felt her muscles tense as his hand resumed its downward path, his intended destination crystal clear. "I take what I want," he purred, his hand reaching the crux of her thighs, once again pressing his hand inward through the barriers of fabric to drag along her core.

She whimpered, shaking, feeling the liquid heat pool between her legs.

Elliot began moving his hand back and forth, starting a rhythm of slow, steady strokes.

Olivia squirmed, once again trying to free herself from his grasp.

He jerked her roughly against him. "And you're going to give it to me."

She shook her head in protest. "Please, stop," she pleaded, her voice cracking.

His hand was relentless, and her struggles only succeeded in heightening the sensations she was trying to avoid. Gradually she succumbed to the slow, continuous motion of his hand, a strangled moan escaping from her lips.

Elliot chuckled.

Nikolai licked his lips, obviously enjoying the sight before him. "Pull up her skirt," he commanded. "I want to watch you finger fuck her."

Olivia tensed in his arms.

Elliot felt sick. The fact that he was not even able to make eye contact with Olivia was killing him, but he took hold of the hem of her dress.

"No!" Olivia cried, straining as she tried to regain the freedom to move her arms.

He yanked the form-fitting material up over her hips. A thin scrap of black lace was now the only barrier obstructing Nikolai's view. Elliot was not about to get rid of it, and he prayed that Nikolai wouldn't tell him to do so.

Olivia shivered. She felt exposed and frightened and mortified at the fact that Elliot was about to know exactly how powerful of an effect he had over her body.

Elliot trailed his fingers across the top of her panties, trying to give her as much warning as possible.

"No!" she said again as she struggled against him, glaring at Nikolai through her tears.

Nikolai laughed, amused by the fact that she was trying to look intimidating even in her current state.

She twisted her head to the side as she felt Elliot's hand slip beneath the lace, steeling herself for the contact and not wanting to have to see Nikolai when it happened. She cried out as Elliot thrust two fingers inside of her, his hand slipping along her slick folds.

She was so wet, and Elliot felt like a complete asshole as he immediately lost all control, his erection pressing against her.

Olivia's eyes closed as she felt him harden behind her, her breath coming in shallow pants as her lungs fought against the crushing weight of his arm.

He repeated the motion of his hand, curling his fingers to apply pressure on the sensitive spot on her inner wall.

She gasped, losing herself in the sensation.

Again and again his fingers plunged inside of her, his pace relentless and rendering her completely under his control. Her inner muscles were clamping around him tighter and tighter, the heel of his hand brushing along her clit with every stroke. Elliot growled, unable to prevent himself from thrusting against her. The sounds she was making were unintelligible – whimpers of pain and pleasure intermingling and becoming indistinguishable from one another.

Her head lolled back on his shoulder, and she turned into his neck. She had long since lost any control over the situation, and although she trusted Elliot implicitly, the fact that he had managed to render her so completely helpless left her feeling incredibly vulnerable. She breathed in his scent and tried to imagine that it was just the two of them – somewhere safe and private and far away from prying eyes.

Elliot knew that she was close and he drew his thumb across her clit once, twice, and she let out a startled cry, her walls convulsing around him as her legs buckled beneath her. Elliot supported her weight, leaving his fingers inside of her as he felt the aftershocks gradually wane; his heart breaking as she gradually came down, her shoulders shaking against him as she sobbed. He felt Nikolai's eyes on him, and he withdrew his fingers, wiping her juices along her thigh. "You can cry all the fuck you want. I'm nowhere near done with you," he said coldly, pulling her back against his erection.

"Fuck you!" she spat, addressing her comment to the both of them.

Nikolai's eyes gleamed as he strode toward her, closing in until his body was practically touching hers. Olivia was pinned between the two of them, and though she was already closely pressed against Elliot, she attempted to shrink back even further into the relative safety of his arms. Nikolai brought his hand to her face, clutching her jaw painfully.

Her nostrils flared as she looked at him with contempt, resisting the urge to spit at him only because of the gun jabbing into her abdomen.

"You've got quite the mouth on you, don't you?" he said, increasing the pressure on her jaw even more.

Olivia inhaled sharply but did not cry out. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

"I'm sure we can put it to better use, now can't we?" he sneered, looking over her shoulder at Elliot.

Elliot's blood ran cold as he realized Nikolai's intent.

"Blow him," he ordered her, shoving her head back harshly as he released his grip on her jaw.

Olivia's heart was pounding and she felt like she could not get enough air.

Elliot must have been aware of the rapid increase of her breathing, because he released his restrictive hold around her chest and spun her to face him, his hands tightly grabbing onto her wrists – partly to restrain her, partly to help hold her up.

Olivia's eyes were squeezed shut as a steady stream of tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Look at me," he snapped, desperate to make eye contact with her.

Olivia didn't respond. She had been humiliated by the extent of her reaction to his touch, and was terrified at the prospect of looking into his eyes.

He shook her forcefully, causing her to cry harder.

"I said fucking look at me!" he repeated.

She took in a shuddering breath as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

He suddenly wished that he had had the forethought to move her against one of the walls, because at this angle he had no way of concealing his expression from Nikolai. She let out an audible sob, and he used it as an excuse to shake her again, pivoting to shove her against the side wall. It wasn't perfect, but it gave him a small window of opportunity.

"Shut up!" he snarled. His features remained hardened in anger, but his eyes softened as he hissed, "I want you to say it."

He paused, his eyes silently pleading with her: _Say_ _the_ _words_."

"Tell me you want it," he continued, hoping that Nikolai wouldn't pick up on anything out of the ordinary.

Olivia understood his meaning but would not give up – not after everything they had already been through. She shook her head. "No."

He released her wrists, slamming both of his hands against the wall on either side of her head. "Say it!" he yelled in her face.

She flinched. "No!" she cried, seizing the chance to duck beneath his arm, stumbling away from him.

She didn't get far as he whipped around, grabbing her by the hair. She cried out in pain, bending backwards toward his hand. He yanked her back around to face him.

"Get on your fucking knees," he growled. His voice cracked as he spoke and he hoped that Nikolai would chalk it up to arousal instead of agony.

"No," she begged him, clutching his shirt in her hands. "Please don't make me do this. Please!"

"I said, _get,_ _the_ _fuck,_ _down_ ," he gritted.

She whimpered as he pried her fingers off of him, shoving her mercilessly to the ground as she fought him every step of the way. Her knees banged against the cold cement as she dropped before him, her hands clutching his thighs as she continued to sob.

He held her gaze as he unzipped his pants, exposing himself to her.

Elliot felt ill. He would be lying to himself if he said that he had never fantasized about a scenario in which Olivia would be kneeling before him, but God, not like this – _never_ like this. Her tear-streaked face peered up at him, her eyes imploring him to stop.

He heard Nikolai chuckle and he swallowed. He couldn't stall any longer.

He looked down at her coldly. "You bite me and you're dead," he snarled.

Harris.

As soon as the words left his lips he knew that something had just gone horribly wrong. Olivia's entire body went rigid, paralyzed in fear. Her face paled and her eyes widened with a look that contained so much fear, panic, and pain that it practically ripped him in two. She had stopped breathing. She was silent. Although she continued to look up at him, it was as though she was looking straight through him. Then just as quickly as she had frozen, she broke apart, shuddering uncontrollably, her entire body wracked with sobs. Her chest was heaving so violently that every rapid breath she took was a desperate gasp for air.

Elliot was petrified.

Olivia had lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak, and was overcome by such pervasive terror that the only thing she knew on an instinctual level was that she had to escape. She pushed herself back, trying to scramble away from him on her hands and knees. She had barely moved more than a foot before Elliot bent over her, his strong arms wrapping around her middle and pulling her against him. Her back was pressed against his chest, her arms and legs lightly brushing against the floor as he lifted her just high enough to prevent her from crawling away. She cried out in fear, the sound a mixture between a wail and a scream.

 _Shut_ _up!_

 _Let_ _go_ _of_ _me!_

She was no longer sure of where she was, the tears blurring and distorting her vision as the floor seemed to twist in front of her.

Elliot shifted her in his arms, allowing her to kneel once again as he turned her to face him. He held onto her head in attempts to be able to tilt it to make her eyes meet his. She misunderstood his intent, openly weeping before him as she waited for him to force himself into her mouth. He didn't.

"What are you waiting for?" Nikolai snapped impatiently. "Your dick will shut her up."

Elliot tried to buy time. He didn't raise his head, but lifted his eyes shooting him a wicked glance, one side of his mouth curling up into a sneer. "I want the bitch to look me in the eye."

Nikolai apparently liked this idea, his own lips twisting into a cold smile.

While Elliot had his attention, he took a chance, lightly trailing the pad of his thumb back and forth over Olivia's bruised cheekbone.

The gesture was gentle and sufficiently out of place to trigger something within her – enough that she finally opened her eyes.

Elliot dropped his gaze to Olivia again, relieved to see her looking up at him, but alarmed by the fear that pervaded her expression. He knew her enough to know that it went far beyond their role-play. She wasn't afraid of Carl, she was afraid of _him_. The fact that she could possibly think he would harm her made his blood run cold. He couldn't do it. He knew she had wanted to put it all on the line for the sake of the little girl, but he couldn't go on like this.

Then before he could even process what was happening, Nikolai was behind her and was pressing the barrel of his gun against the base of her skull. Nikolai cocked it with a sickening click, his finger curled menacingly against the trigger.

A fraction of an inch and she would be taken from him.

Olivia had regained enough of her awareness to understand that the situation had just taken a colossal turn for the worse.

Nikolai's left hand reached around her and squeezed her breast so painfully that she could do nothing to stifle her cry.

Elliot clenched his jaw.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Nikolai hissed in her ear. "Blow him," he snarled, squeezing her even more tightly, enjoying her whimpers before he finally released her.

Olivia continued to look up at the towering form above her. His eyes held hers.

Blue.

Elliot.

A wave of recognition washed over her.

Nikolai jabbed the gun against her skull.

She focused on Elliot, and lifted a trembling hand, running it along his length. He inhaled sharply, his hands tightening their grip on her head. She wrapped her hand around him and leaned forward, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him in her mouth. Elliot groaned. She started a slow rhythm, sliding her mouth along him, enveloping as much of him as possible before retreating again, her tongue massaging the sensitive skin underneath with every pass. Elliot's entire body was humming with the sensations she was creating, ripples of pleasure coursing through him. He was doing everything in his power to control himself, prevent himself from thrusting into her mouth; but then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be in control. He set his jaw, tangling his hands in her hair as he took over the pace. He pushed and pulled her, forcing her to take him faster, deeper. She moaned in protest and he growled at the vibration, thrusting into her. She gagged, trying to pull away from him.

Nikolai laughed.

Elliot maintained his hold on her as she continued to struggle, pushing against him with her hands. She whimpered, tears streaming down her face. Elliot forced himself to ignore her cries, feeling incredibly guilty for experiencing pleasure while the only thing she was experiencing was pain. He felt the telltale tightening of his groin, grunting as he tried to prevent himself from going over the edge. Just as he began to feel the last bit of his control slipping away, Olivia was ripped away from him.

Nikolai clucked his tongue. His hand gripped the back of Olivia's neck and his gun grazed her temple. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You didn't think I'd let this little party end so soon, now did you?"

Elliot let out a growl of frustration at having been denied the release that his painfully hard body demanded. Though he was relieved that Olivia had been spared this much, he almost would have preferred for it to have ended that way as opposed to whatever the hell else he was going to have to put her through.

Olivia wiped the traces of saliva from her lips, trying to catch her breath, her entire body shaking.

"Fuck," Elliot rasped, as his power of speech returned to him.

Nikolai chuckled. "Yes, sorry about that," he said unconvincingly. "It would be a shame to allow her to get off so easily, don't you think?" he continued, feigning boredom as Olivia pointedly ignored the gun to her temple and attempted to wrench herself free from his grasp. "You know," he paused, looking down at her as if thoughtfully mulling over the situation, "I don't think she has learned her lesson." His tone remained dangerously low, leaving Olivia entirely unprepared as he swiftly raised his arm, smashing his gun down across the side of her head.

She screamed in agony, the force of the blow causing her to collapse the rest of the way to the floor. She curled into the fetal position bringing her hands up to clutch her head, unable to focus on anything other than the throbbing pain.

Elliot lost it. It was all that he could do to prevent himself from rushing to her side. "Jesus," Elliot hissed, "you trying to knock her the fuck out? I want her to fucking fight! She's no good to me if she lies there like a fucking lump!"

Nikolai paid no attention to his outburst. "This one?" he smirked at Olivia's crumpled form. "This one will fight 'til her last breath."

Elliot swallowed. That much was true.

To prove his point Nikolai used his heel to roll her over onto her back, bending over her as he tried to force her knees apart. Olivia immediately began to thrash in protest, flailing her arms and legs as she attempted to connect with whatever part of him she could. Nikolai laughed as he straightened, backing away from her but not before he kicked her sharply in her side.

Elliot winced, but fortunately this went unnoticed by Nikolai, whose eyes remained trained intently on Olivia.

She whimpered. It was not as forceful as the blow to her head, but it stung and she turned away from him in attempts to protect more sensitive areas in case he decided to continue his assault. She rolled over onto her stomach, bringing her hands up by her shoulders and attempting to push herself up off of the ground. Her arms shook and she faltered, but she gritted her teeth and made a second attempt, ignoring the shooting pain in her head as she managed to get back up on her hands and knees, crawling away from both men.

Nikolai surveyed her with amusement, allowing her to make her way toward the door, knowing full well that her efforts were futile. There was no escape. The fact that she continued to seek a way out, however pointless, only heightened his desire to break her.

Elliot watched with a mixture of pride and anguish as she used the doorknob to drag herself to her feet.

Olivia rested her forehead against the door, feeling lightheaded and willing herself to regain her bearings. God, she had never felt such hatred as she did toward Nikolai. She hated him for what he stood for, for what he was putting them through, for the power and control he had over all of his many pawns. She wanted to take the bastard down and lock him away for life. She was only minimally aware of the fact that she was crying again. She balled her hands into fists, bringing them by her head and thumping them weakly against the door.

Nikolai laughed. "There's no way out," he jeered. "Or did you forget?" He looked over at Elliot with a malevolent expression. "Perhaps you should jog her memory."

Elliot swallowed. As Nikolai turned back around to face Olivia, Elliot flashed back to his days in the Marines and imagined what it would be like to sneak up behind him and snap his neck with one swift motion – to hear the satisfying crack before his lifeless body fell to the floor. His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms standing out as he fought against the urge to strike.

As Elliot had not yet made a move, Nikolai glanced over his shoulder, grinning when he saw his hardened expression and attributing it to Elliot's desire to attack Olivia. Elliot forced himself to return the smile, and strode over to stand behind Olivia's trembling form.

She did not lift her forehead from where it rested against the door, a fresh batch of sobs escaping her as she felt him hovering behind her. "Please, no," she begged feebly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Please let me go."

Elliot moved even closer, the entire length of his body brushing against hers. He braced his arms on either side of her as he leaned forward, his face millimeters from the nape of her neck as he inhaled her scent. She shivered as his breath tickled her skin. His hands moved to cover hers where they remained balled against the door, and he slowly and deliberately rocked his lower body against hers, communicating the fact that he had absolutely no intention of letting her go.

Elliot was stalling. After everything she had been put through, he was not at all sure about Olivia's current state of mind, and was worried beyond belief about both her physical and emotional well-being. He had to know.

He moved his mouth over her ear, speaking as quietly as humanly possible. "Liv," he breathed.

She whimpered.

He gently ground his hips against her, hoping that Nikolai would enjoy the fact that he was prolonging her suffering. "Tell me to release you," he continued, afraid that she might have forgotten the words.

Olivia's shoulders shook against him as her tears continued to fall. "No! Carl, _please_ ," she cried, her voice breaking.

Elliot's heart sank. While he was glad to get some confirmation that the head trauma had not been severe enough to compromise her, he had almost been hoping that she wasn't lucid, because that would have given him an excuse to end things.

He pulled on her right wrist, spinning her around to face him. She kept her back pressed closely against the door, shrinking as far away from him as possible. Elliot leaned into her, smirking at her, his face directly in front of hers. "I'm going to make you scream," he threatened. He spoke in a hushed tone, but this time made sure he had spoken loudly enough for Nikolai to hear his words.

Olivia sniffed. Elliot was still hesitating, and she knew it. She steeled herself as she made a move that would most definitely bring about retribution. She raised her chin defiantly and spit in his face.

" _Damn_ _it,_ _Liv!"_ he thought.

Elliot growled, angrily swiping the moisture from his cheek. He grabbed her by the throat, pinning her against the door as she clutched at his hand. "You're gonna fucking pay for that," he threatened. He yanked her forcefully from the door, whirling her around and releasing her so that she stumbled forward toward the bed.

Nikolai laughed.

"No!" she cried, backing up from the mattress and turning to face him.

Elliot's expression was livid as he closed the gap between them.

She shook her head, "No, please! Please don't do this!"

Olivia tried to dart around him but he caught her around the waist. She cried out in fear as he flung her down onto the mattress. She landed on her back and quickly rolled to her side, frantically trying to scramble away from him. He grabbed her by the legs, hauling her toward him and flipping her over onto her back again.

"Please no!" she begged as he climbed over her on his hands and knees. She brought her arms up, pushing against him, tears streaming down her face.

He lowered his weight so that he was straddling her hips, taking hold of her wrists and pinning them above her head.

She strained against him, her efforts doing nothing to loosen his grasp.

He leered at her, shifting to take hold of both of her wrists with his left hand while he brought his right hand down along the side of her face and neck, lingering along the neckline of her dress. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he snaked his fingers underneath the thin spaghetti strap along her left shoulder and tugged sharply upward, the material immediately giving way.

Olivia whimpered.

Elliot ignored her protests and repeated the action on the other side.

Olivia arched against him, trying desperately to wriggle out of his grasp as he took hold of the front of her dress and yanked it down over her breasts.

He groaned as they came into view, not having taken the time to consider the possibility that she might not have been wearing a bra.

She bit her lip under his silent appraisal, feeling incredibly exposed. She was breathing heavily and her nipples hardened in anticipation.

He swallowed, lifting his eyes to meet hers. She was regarding him with a mixture of fear, anxiety and desire. His eyes darkened and he moved his hand to roughly massage her left breast as his mouth descended onto her right one.

She gasped, her left breast still sore from Nikolai's unforgiving assault, the pain mixing with the pleasure Elliot was causing by his ministrations. His fingers pinched her nipple as his teeth mimicked his actions on the other side. Olivia cried out, writhing beneath him as he relentlessly alternated between tugging and twisting and licking and soothing the tender flesh. "No, stop!" she begged, half crying, half moaning at his touch.

Eventually he did, removing his mouth and hand, gripping her jaw as he hissed, "You're a fucking whore. You know you like it."

Olivia sobbed.

"Tell me you want it," he snarled.

"No," she cried struggling against him. "Let me go!"

He hated himself, but he released his hold on her jaw and slapped her across the face. "Say it!"

She only cried harder.

"No? Fine," he spat. "You're about to tell me everything I already know." He wrenched his thigh between hers, forcing her legs apart as he dragged his hand down her body.

"No, no, no," she whimpered repeatedly as his hand pushed between her legs, his fingers dragging along her center as he grabbed the crotch of her panties, ripping them in half.

He looked down at her smugly. "You're dripping wet," he ridiculed, roughly dragging his fingers along her clit.

She let out a strangled moan, unable to suppress her reaction to his touch.

"I knew you fucking wanted it," he hissed, pulling his hand away.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, her chest heaving violently as she sobbed uncontrollably beneath him. She knew that Elliot had to say these things, but it did little to cushion the emotional blow. She _did_ want it - not like this - but she _did_ want him and the fact that the extent of her desire was blatantly apparent to both Elliot and Nikolai left her feeling incredibly ashamed.

Elliot's heart broke. He wanted to pull her into his arms and apologize, to tell her how beautiful she was – that he would give anything to be able to make love to her, treat her the way she deserved to be treated.

"Fuck her," Nikolai barked over his shoulder, his voice filled with anticipation.

As painful as it was, Olivia fought against every instinct she had to hide from him, and forced herself to open her eyes. She knew that Elliot would never be able to bring himself to do this unless she could communicate that she was okay. She met his gaze, her breath hitching as she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. "P-please, Carl," she hiccupped. "Please don't do this."

"Shut up," he gritted.

She struggled against him, managing to yank her left wrist from his grasp, pushing against his shoulder to try to shove him off balance. "No, please!"

He captured her wrist again with his free hand, pinning it back above her head, balancing his weight on his forearms as he moved his other leg between hers, forcing them further apart. "Shut the fuck up!" he yelled.

"No, stop!" she begged, becoming more hysterical, thrashing beneath him. "Carl, no!"

He knew what she was doing – repeating Carl's name to try to remind him that she wasn't begging _him_ to stop, but it wasn't helping. Christ, it wasn't helping. He looked down at her tear-streaked face and was overwhelmed by guilt. No matter how much she offered her indirect consent, in his mind, in his heart, he felt like he was raping Olivia Benson.

Nikolai's laughter filled the room.

Elliot clenched his jaw.

He positioned himself at her entrance, looking into her wide brown eyes. He tightened his grip on her wrists.

She swallowed.

Elliot pushed his hips forward, burying himself inside of her with one deep thrust.

They both cried out from the sensation.

Olivia gasped, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain as her body struggled to accommodate him. Elliot held her gaze. His jaw clenched, overcome by the myriad feelings that overwhelmed him as he tried to reconcile the fact that he was simultaneously experiencing such physical ecstasy and such psychic pain. He held still for as long as possible, wishing that he could go slowly; give Olivia time to adjust, but he felt Nikolai's eyes upon him. He pulled back and thrust himself into her again.

Olivia inhaled sharply, unable to make a sound. Elliot took in her expression, mouth open, eyebrows slightly knit, and he knew that he was hurting her.

"Harder," Nikolai commanded.

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of her tears, but her face was etched in his mind, the fear and pain in her eyes as vivid behind his eyelids as it was in front of them. He thrust into her again and she whimpered, the sound shattering the last fragment of willpower he had left. His throat tightened and his eyes burned. God, he couldn't do this. He couldn't do this to her. His eyes flew open to meet hers, and he did nothing to mask his inner turmoil. He hated himself. He hated his body for betraying him – for betraying Olivia.

Olivia looked into his grief-stricken eyes, and knew that she had to take over. She hurriedly stole a glance over his shoulder. Nikolai was standing closely behind him, but from her current position she could only see one of his arms. Elliot's body was shielding her – at least for the moment. She looked back up at Elliot, her eyes softening as she tried to communicate as much trust and compassion as possible. She did not have the mobility of her wrists, but she curled the fingers of her left hand and gently brushed his index finger. She could barely reach him – the touch hardly more than a whisper across his skin, but he noticed immediately. He flitted his gaze to their hands and back with a questioning look in his eyes.

Olivia summoned up her courage, somehow feeling as though despite everything they had already been through, she was about to cross another line. She bit her lip and clenched her inner muscles around him. She watched as his eyes closed, the tendons in his jaw standing out as he fought to remain still. Once he regained his control he looked back down at her. Olivia's eyes had darkened, her breathing shallow. Unable to resist, he dropped his eyes to her breasts, his face flushing as he met her gaze again. She licked her lips and repeated her earlier actions, squeezing him as she gently rolled her hips, trying to make the movement as subtle as possible.

Her motions had their intended effect, and he hardened even more inside of her.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Nikolai hollered.

Olivia's eyes widened as she looked at Elliot in panic.

"Give me a fucking second," Elliot gritted, "or this will be over before it's started."

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his expression once again becoming one of determination.

Olivia looked up at him, nodding almost imperceptibly. She drew her knees up, digging her heels against the mattress one after the other, trying to slide herself up and away from him as she whimpered for Nikolai's benefit.

Elliot growled and thrust into her again.

Olivia cried out, increasing her efforts to fight him off as Nikolai made his way around the side of the bed. Her heart pounded in her chest as she knew that they would no longer be able to continue their nonverbal communication.

Elliot's lips twisted into a cruel smile, his hands tightening around her wrists as he drove into her again and again, each thrust harder and deeper than the one before it. Olivia arched against him, crying and screaming and begging him to stop.

Nikolai walked around the side until he was standing above Olivia's head. "Allow me," he said, gesturing to her wrists. Elliot stilled as Nikolai leaned over her, trailing the gun up the side of her neck and cocking it when it reached the top of her skull.

Elliot's heart was in his throat but he looked at Nikolai with a smile. "Thanks," he said, releasing his grasp on her wrists.

Elliot pulled out of her, but Olivia remained frozen beneath him, sobbing as he sat up and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. She was terrified of moving for fear of being on the receiving end of another of Nikolai's blows to the head, but felt sick to her stomach lying half naked in front of him. Eventually her desire to shield herself from his view overrode her fear of the potential repercussions of her actions and she brought her arms down protectively across her chest.

Elliot shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on the floor, beating Nikolai to the punch as he smacked her across the jaw. It was not intended to cause pain, only to intimidate her as he leaned over her and snapped, "Who the fuck told you to cover up?"

"No, please!" she wailed as he pried open her arms, slamming them down on the bed.

Nikolai lowered his weapon once Elliot had her secured, this time pinning her wrists out to her sides so that they were level with her shoulders. He leaned forward, his weight forcing her arms to sink further into the mattress.

She winced. She considered herself a strong person, having been able to take down many perps who outweighed her in the past, but she was no match for Elliot. The lines of his muscles stood out all along his arms, chest, and neck, and she now understood why every attempt she had made to escape him had been so easily countered. She looked up into his angry eyes, her entire body trembling.

"You don't fucking move unless I tell you to," he seethed, thrusting back inside of her and rolling his hips to emphasize the fact that he maintained complete control.

She choked back some sobs, her breasts brushing against his chest with every jerky breath she took.

Elliot released her arms, testing her compliance as he raised himself higher on his knees, grasping her firmly by the waist and hauling her toward him so that her hips rose off of the bed.

She whimpered, the position causing him to penetrate her more deeply. She tried to take hold of the mattress, steeling herself for the twinge of pain and crying out as he began to thrust into her. With every forward motion, Elliot pulled her toward him, their hips colliding as he buried himself to the hilt. Olivia was overwhelmed by the sensations he was causing, a tingling warmth spreading throughout her body as he repeatedly stretched her to a point of discomfort that immediately transformed into bliss. She wasn't sure if she was moaning or sobbing, only that Elliot's body was ripping sounds from her throat that she had no ability to suppress.

Elliot moved his hands so that his left was supporting the small of her back as his right palm splayed across her taut stomach. Her body was incredible, the sway of her breasts hypnotizing him as she bounced against him. Her inner muscles were squeezing him like a vise, seeming to tighten around him more and more with every thrust.

"Flip her over," Nikolai commanded, his voice barely registering in Elliot's rapture-induced haze.

Olivia looked up at Elliot, her eyes laden with desire. She was trying to remember to fight – trying to find the strength to put up the struggle that Nikolai wanted. She felt Elliot slip out of her as he took hold of her left leg, lifting it across his torso as he worked to change their positions. Once her legs were together she took the window of opportunity it created to roll away from him, attempting to launch herself to the right and toward the edge of the mattress. Her movements were poorly coordinated, her limbs shaky. Elliot snaked his arms around her middle yanking her back toward the center of the bed. Incapable of speech, she merely cried, knowing that Nikolai would get off as long as he thought she was miserable.

Elliot released his hold on her and she tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed onto her legs, preventing her efforts. She flattened herself on the mattress, reaching with her arms, doing anything possible to drag herself forward. She wept as Elliot lay on top of her, the entire length of his body covering hers, weighing her down. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. "Shut up," he hissed, tugging her backward so that she was on all fours. He took hold of the remaining scraps of lace that used to comprise her panties and ripped them the rest of the way off.

"Fuck her in the ass," Nikolai demanded.

Olivia found her voice in a panic. "No, no, no!" she shook her head, sobs wracking her body. She struggled against Elliot's hold. God, she couldn't take that. No. "R-, re-," she tried, her chest heaving so much that she couldn't utter the words.

" _Release_ _me!"_ her mind screamed.

God, why couldn't she speak? She became increasingly hysterical as she realized that she was completely unable to communicate with Elliot, the extent of her powerlessness terrifying her.

" _Shh,_ _Liv,"_ Elliot thought, longing to be able to comfort her. She was trembling violently in his arms, completely panic-stricken. There was no way in hell he was going to do that to her.

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "If you want to see someone fucked in the ass, you can go find yourself a couple of fags." His tone was low, dangerous, and left no room for discussion. He glowered at Nikolai, daring him to challenge him. Inwardly, Elliot was petrified, unsure as to whether this would be the moment that Nikolai would snap and hold both of them at gunpoint, forcing them to do his bidding.

Nikolai was silent, as if he were trying to decide how to respond.

Elliot knew how much Nikolai wanted to break Olivia, torture her. Nikolai's demand was designed with the knowledge that it would cause her as much pain as possible as he mercilessly ripped her to shreds. Elliot was well aware of the fact that Nikolai did not react well to ultimatums, and attempted to salvage the situation by appealing to their prior complicity. He cocked an eyebrow at Nikolai, dropping his gaze to Olivia and wrenching her head back even farther as she cried out in pain. "I have other ways to make her scream," he growled, propelling her head forward as he roughly released his hold on her hair, the motion causing her arms to collapse as her head struck the bed.

Nikolai chuckled, backing down. "Have it your way," he replied.

Elliot reached between them and positioned himself at her entrance, the only brief warning he gave her before he took hold of Olivia's hips and plunged inside of her. Olivia screamed, the sound partially muffled by the mattress. They both knew that they had just narrowly escaped a far worse fate and would have to make sure that Nikolai was satisfied with the alternative. Olivia continued to scream as Elliot slammed into her again and again, his pace hard, deep and unforgiving. Her fists were balled by her head, her chest rubbing harshly against the mattress as he pushed and pulled within her. While he knew that he was causing her discomfort, Elliot prayed that he was not hurting her to the extent that she was projecting.

Nikolai's laughter filled the room, the vile sound mixing with Olivia's heart-wrenching cries.

Elliot knew that this was exactly what the sick bastard wanted.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, continuing to thrust into her as he leaned forward and shoved the other between her neck and the mattress. He curled it sharply around her throat, yanking her up so that her torso hovered above the bed as she gasped for air. Her hands shot out to support her weight, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure around her neck.

"Hold yourself the fuck up," he snarled.

She locked her arms, bracing herself as he released her, coughing and choking as she struggled to breathe through her sobs. He gave her no time to recover, continuing to pound into her as she whimpered, the pain becoming more and more pleasurable. Every thrust seemed to penetrate her more deeply, her back arching as her walls tightened around him, heightening the sensations as he moved within her.

Elliot groaned. She felt incredible. He watched himself disappear inside of her over and over again, overcome by the fact that it was Olivia beneath him, _her_ body, _her_ warmth that enveloped him.

Her cries were transforming into moans. She was powerless to stave off the tension building in her core as Elliot controlled her every move. His hands were tightly gripping her hips, pulling her toward him to match his every thrust. Her arms were shaking from the strain of trying to hold herself up, and she was breathing so quickly that she felt lightheaded.

Elliot knew that he could quickly push her over the edge if he moved his hand to her clit, but Carl and Nikolai's game had nothing to do with her pleasure, only her domination. One of Elliot's arms snaked around to fondle her breasts, roughly massaging them as he pinched and tugged on her nipples. Her elbows buckled but he caught her, watching as she tried to comply with his earlier command by attempting to push herself back up, but she didn't have the strength.

He took the opportunity to flip her back over onto her back, hooking her right leg over his shoulder as he resumed his rhythm, balancing his weight on his forearms, covering her hands with his own. The new position caused him to brush against her clit with every thrust, and Olivia was bucking and arching and moaning uncontrollably beneath him. He felt her tighten even more around him and he felt himself losing his own control, groaning as her body seemed to pull him even further inside of her. He quickened the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent as his body demanded the release that only she could give him. Olivia's eyes were closed and her face was flushed and her moans were transforming into high-pitched gasps. Ripples of pleasure started rolling through her and she needed to see him, to connect with him before she lost herself completely.

She opened her eyes, finding him staring back at her. The intensity of his gaze transfixed her, his eyes revealing depths of emotion that she was unprepared to absorb. He was baring his soul to her and trusting her with the truths it contained. A tear ran down her cheek, not from pain but from hope. His hands shifted, their fingers interlocking as she felt the waves of pleasure flooding over her. His mouth crashed over hers, swallowing the beginnings of his name on her lips as he came within her, the room dissolving from their awareness.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Note:_

 _So...-peeks out tentatively and waves into the abyss-... Are you still with me? My fear when I posted Chapter 7 the last time was that because it was so dark and disturbing, I would lose the bulk of my readers. Not sure whether or not that will happen this time... For those of you for whom the subject matter hit close to home, I want to apologize if it evoked any painful memories. :( I know I didn't pull any punches... **Once again, I want to warn people that this chapter contains things that may be triggering...**_

 _Music for part of this was "Reign" by Unkle._

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Olivia slowly drifted back into the present, gradually becoming aware of her surroundings.

Elliot's weight.

Nikolai's laughter.

Her cheek was pressed closely against Elliot's neck, the warmth of his body enveloping her. He was still inside of her. She kept her eyes closed in a desperate attempt to keep reality at bay. God what she would give to stay safely wrapped up in his arms – holding her, protecting her, shielding her from Nikolai's view. She felt Elliot begin to stir above her and one by one her tears resumed their steady course, streaming down her cheeks and dampening his skin.

He was going to leave her.

Elliot's chest was shaking and he realized that it was from her sobs. He reluctantly propped himself up on his arms, wanting nothing more than to hold her for as long as she would let him, hating himself for what he was about to do to her. He looked down at her coldly, eternally grateful that her eyes were closed. He pushed himself back onto his knees, smirking at her trembling form. Then with a sound so harsh and jarring that even he felt unprepared for it, he began to laugh, forcing himself to join with Nikolai in his twisted enjoyment of their shared conquest.

Olivia wept beneath him. She had never felt more ashamed in her entire life. She brought her arms across her chest in an attempt to cover herself, wishing that she could disappear. She no longer feared any potential physical repercussions of disobeying Elliot's commands. No beating would cause more suffering than the emotional pain she was already feeling.

Elliot allowed her to do so, partially from a sense of culpability, partially from the thought that Nikolai might actually enjoy seeing her attempts to hide as a sign that they had finally been able to break her. He looked down at her, not entirely sure that this wasn't the case. The thought spread through his system like ice in his veins. He pushed it aside. No matter how painful, he still had to be Carl. It was the only way that they would get out of there alive.

He continued to snicker, pulling out of her and moving to stand at the foot of the bed.

Olivia whimpered at the loss. She folded over onto herself, rolling onto her side and bringing her knees to her chest. She had never felt so empty.

Elliot watched in agony as she seemed to shatter in front of him. _He_ was doing this. _He_ was breaking her.

He looked at Nikolai smugly, zipping up his pants. "I told you I could make her scream."

Nikolai chuckled. "Yes, that you did," he drawled. He walked toward Olivia, bending over her and trailing his slimy hand down her arm.

Olivia shivered, her body tensing at his touch. She decided that she preferred the gun.

"I like this one," he sneered, straightening. "She has spirit," he continued. "You know, next time, I have some other acquaintances that would be happy to help you put her in her place."

Olivia was flooded by another surge of adrenaline, her breathing so rapid and shallow that she wondered if it were possible to pass out while lying down.

Elliot's stomach plummeted. _Next_ _tim_ _e_. Over his dead body. His mind conjured up images of Nikolai's peep show, but this time he envisioned Olivia trapped within the glass cage – _her_ anguished, silent cries as she was gang raped and brutalized by God knows how many men. He had stopped breathing, and he was convinced that his heart had stopped beating.

His eyes narrowed, but he attempted to keep a half smile on his face. "I don't like to share," he responded.

Nikolai's expression darkened, chilling Elliot to the bone. "Let me remind you that your likes are inconsequential," he spat, turning toward Olivia.

 _Fuck._ _F_ _uck._ _Fuck._ Elliot remained frozen, as if watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Nikolai grabbed her left arm, attempting to flip her over onto her back. Olivia kept her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her entire body rigid as she fought to stay on her side. It was a losing battle. Nikolai's grip was too forceful. She kept her knees locked together, attempting to roll onto her side again once he released his hold on her arm, but he had only let her go long enough to transfer his gun back to his right hand, using it to backhand her sharply across the face. She cried out, the pain exploding across her cheek as she felt a warm trickle of blood reach her ear. He grabbed her by the throat, pinning her down as he cocked the gun, pressing it firmly against the middle of her forehead.

Olivia's eyes widened in fear. She couldn't breathe. She brought her hands up to his wrist, wondering how much energy to expend to try to pull his hand away, and how much to conserve in order to cling to consciousness for as long as possible.

He glared over his shoulder at Elliot, his expression pure wrath. "You come to my club, you play by my rules," he hissed.

Elliot remained silent, studying him, knowing that Olivia's life depended on the choices he made in the next few moments.

Nikolai turned his attention back to Olivia, and Elliot used the window of opportunity to slip his hand into his pocket, clutching the transmitter, trying to decide whether or not to disable it.

"This place doesn't exist," Nikolai continued. "People disappear all the time," he threatened, jabbing the gun even harder against her skull.

Elliot watched Olivia's hands fall limply to her sides, losing her ability to fight Nikolai as he continued to squeeze her throat. Elliot calculated the amount of time it would take to reach them – to pull him from her, but even if he picked a moment when Nikolai was distracted, his iron grip on the gun posed too great of a threat for him to risk it.

Nikolai turned to look at him again and Elliot nodded his understanding, doing his best to look contemplative but not overly alarmed. He figured that Nikolai would want to see that Carl respected his control, but thought that it would not be wise to demonstrate too much weakness.

" _Let_ _her_ _go,_ _let_ _her_ _go,_ _let_ _her_ _go,_ _"_ he prayed, feeling more and more frantic with every passing second.

Nikolai appeared to be considering Elliot's response. He was no longer glaring at Elliot, but his eyes narrowed and a dangerous smile spread across his features.

Elliot swallowed. Nikolai was most definitely sizing him up, testing his compliance.

Nikolai trailed his gun from Olivia's forehead to her temple, all the while studying Elliot as if daring him to make the wrong move. He brought it down further, shoving it forcefully against her ribs before moving it lower, tracing lazy patterns across her abdomen. "Who's in charge?" Nikolai taunted.

"You are," Elliot rasped.

Nikolai turned back to Olivia, licking his lips as he shoved the gun in between her knees, taking advantage of her current state of weakness to easily push them apart.

Olivia made a tiny strangled sound, a single tear escaping as she now lay sprawled before him. _"Elliot,"_ she thought.

Elliot's fingers tightened around the transmitter. _"_ _Please_ _God,_ _no._ _P_ _lease_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _do_ _this…"_ His other hand was clenched into a fist, his body coiled and ready to pounce.

Nikolai trailed the gun up her thigh. "Who is?" he repeated.

"You!" Elliot growled, more panicked than ever. Even if he disabled the transmitter, no one would reach them in time.

Nikolai laughed, pushing the barrel inside of her, relishing the pained expression on her face. "It's amazing, really, how one tiny piece of lead can cause so much damage." He twisted the gun within her, turning his head to study Elliot.

Elliot did not meet his gaze, unable to look anywhere other than Olivia. _"Please_ _God,_ _no._ _Please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _take_ _her_ _from_ _me..._ _"_

Nikolai's smile widened in recognition of the fact that he maintained complete control over both of them. He waited, drawing out the torture for what seemed like an eternity before he withdrew the gun and finally released her.

Olivia gasped, coughing and sputtering as she tried to recover from his stranglehold. Tears filled her eyes, swirling with the gold and black speckles that clouded her vision. She rolled away from both men as she curled into the fetal position and wept.

" _Forgive_ _me,_ _"_ Elliot's heart broke. She was alive, but God, how could she ever forgive him for what he had allowed Nikolai to do? Elliot's face was flushed from hatred and self-loathing, visibly shaking from the effort of maintaining his control.

Nikolai pulled out a handkerchief and nonchalantly wiped away the traces of her assault from the barrel. "So we understand each other," he said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," Elliot said hoarsely, unable to prevent the emotion from permeating his response.

"Good," Nikolai continued. "Because I would hate to think that such a promising partnership would come to a close so quickly. I have high hopes for you." He stopped polishing the gun and brought the handkerchief to his nose, inhaling Olivia's scent before stuffing it back into his pocket.

Elliot's stomach churned.

"And, now that we have clarified this little…misunderstanding, I want to assure you that I am a man of my word."

Elliot raised his eyebrows, attempting to look interested. He knew that Nikolai was about to make the move that they'd been banking on – to grant them access to the little girl, yet at that moment his sole focus was Olivia. The urge to comfort her was overwhelming. God he wanted to hold her. Though he was looking at Nikolai, the only thing he saw was Olivia's shuddering form. He wanted to wrap himself around her and beg her forgiveness, to absorb her pain as his own.

"I promised to make this worth your while, no?"

Elliot returned Nikolai's wicked smile. "Yeah, I guess you did."

"Trust me when I say you will not be disappointed," he sneered, his eyes flashing conspiratorially. "Get her up," he said, indicating Olivia disinterestedly with a casual sweep of his arm. "We're going to go on a little ride."

Elliot strode over to her, his expression cold, indifferent. He was now on exceedingly thin ice with Nikolai and needed to do some damage control. "Get up," he barked, the sight of her bloodied cheek bringing about another pang of remorse.

Olivia didn't respond. Her gaze remained fixed on his knees, her chest continuing to spasm from sobs that she had long since lost the ability to control.

Elliot clenched his jaw, forcing himself to continue. He took hold of her forearms, hauling her up so that her upper body lifted from the mattress. "Stop crying like a little bitch and get the fuck up," he snarled. He shook her, causing more whimpers to escape her lips as she looked up at him fearfully with red, swollen eyes. He released her harshly, and watched as she shakily pushed herself up into a sitting position, draping an arm across her breasts.

Olivia's head was throbbing and she didn't trust that she had the strength to stand, but she managed to scoot herself forward, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed so that her feet met the floor. Her eyes widened in embarrassment as the change in position caused the evidence of their coupling to seep out of her, sticky and wet on her thighs. Her back to Nikolai, she looked up at Elliot with a pleading expression, drawing his attention to the source of her distress by bringing her other hand to her lap.

Elliot turned from her, making his way across the room to grab his shirt from the floor, bending once again to pick up her destroyed panties and returning to fling them at her. Jesus he was an asshole. He had destroyed the only form of protection she had against these aftereffects and now she would have no way of covering herself for the rest of the night. "Clean yourself the fuck up," he spat.

Olivia balled up the scraps of fabric and did her best to comply. She felt dirty and was no longer able to meet his eyes, not sure how he could still stand to look at her. She placed the now sodden fragments beside her, surprised when Elliot reached down and snatched them away, shoving them into his back pocket.

Elliot didn't give a damn what Nikolai thought, and assumed that it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that Carl would want to keep them as a trophy. There was no way in hell he was leaving them behind for Nikolai, nor did he want Olivia to suffer the humiliation of having them discovered by CSU.

Olivia tugged the dress down over her hips and worked to pull up the top to conceal her breasts. The broken straps dangled uselessly from her shoulders, but thankfully the material was form-fitting enough to stay put on its own. Elliot finished buttoning up his shirt, watching as Olivia gingerly brought a trembling hand to her cheek. The wound had finally stopped bleeding, the traces of dried crimson that surrounded it streaked by her tears.

"Ready then?" Nikolai asked as Elliot rolled up his sleeves.

Elliot nodded. He glared down at her. "Let's go."

She attempted to stand but her knees shook, her legs uncooperative.

This worried Elliot to no end. He lunged for her and noted sadly that she reflexively flinched, as if anticipating the next blow. Instead he merely cursed in a fabricated display of impatience as he yanked her to her feet, supporting the bulk of her weight as he wrapped his arm around her waist. She clutched his shirt in her hands, leaning into his chest and doing her best to walk alongside him.

Nikolai turned and walked to the door as they approached, knocking once, pausing, and knocking twice more. The deadbolt was released and Nikolai's bodyguard opened the door. Once again the distant sounds of the thundering bass reached their ears.

Elliot had never been more relieved at the prospect of freedom – at least relative freedom.

They made their way down the hallway toward the front of the club, flanked by Nikolai's bodyguards as he walked ahead of them. Elliot started to become nervous at the close supervision, worrying that he would not get an opportunity to plant the first transmitter. "Hey, uh, Nik," he called.

Nikolai spun to face him.

"You got a bathroom around here?"

Nikolai's gaze was inscrutable.

"Must be the whiskey," Elliot shrugged, hoping that he was coming across as sincere.

Nikolai breathed a laugh through his nose, gesturing with an incline of his head to a door on the side wall.

Olivia clung to Elliot tightly, suddenly terrified as she realized that he would have to leave her behind.

Elliot was similarly anxious at the thought of leaving her alone, but couldn't see a way around it. "Hey boys," he said, addressing Nikolai's security detail. "You wouldn't mind keeping an eye on her, would you?" He didn't wait for a response, but passed her off to the one closest to him, satisfied when the man hooked his arm underneath her armpit to steady her. Elliot was operating under the assumption that Nikolai wouldn't permit his staff to sample the merchandise. He prayed that he wasn't mistaken. Regardless, Elliot was not about to hand her over to Nikolai.

He walked briskly to the restroom, not wanting to leave her alone for one second longer than necessary. He quickly scanned the interior, feeling apprehensive about the possibility of surveillance cameras. He made his way over to use the urinal, not wanting to take any chances and figuring that it would give him a couple of extra moments to decide where to hide the transmitter. There weren't a lot of options. He settled on the trashcan, deciding that it was unlikely to be emptied before the end of the night, and feeling confident that the lid provided some additional coverage. He rinsed his hands and splashed some water on his face, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what had just transpired. He drew a hand over his face, endeavoring to stay focused on the task at hand. He tore off a couple of paper towels, using one to dry his skin and the other to wrap up the transmitter before tossing both in the bin.

He returned to find Olivia in roughly the same position as before, which he hoped meant that she had not been subjected to any further molestation. He pulled her to him, once again wrapping his arm securely around her. "Sorry," he addressed Nikolai who nodded and turned to continue down the hall.

When they reached the exit, they found the man who had initially accompanied them to the club. Elliot's eyes narrowed, as he had not for one second forgotten the way the man's hands had lingered on Olivia's body. Elliot glared at him menacingly, but the man did not appear to care. He simply tossed Elliot their jackets before moving to speak with Nikolai out of earshot.

Olivia tested her balance, pushing herself off of Elliot to try to stand independently. She didn't feel by any means steady but her legs didn't try to buckle, which was an improvement.

Elliot shoved her jacket in her direction, being careful not to knock her off balance. "What are you waiting for? An invitation?" he snapped.

She took it from him, slipping her left arm through the sleeve. She almost managed to pull it around her shoulders, but when she attempted to bend enough to draw it over her right arm, she staggered back. _"_ _Damned_ _concussion,"_ she mused in frustration.

Elliot shot his arm out to prevent her from toppling over. "What the hell is your problem?" he hissed, simultaneously pulling her toward him and holding open her jacket so that she could finish putting it on. His heart was pounding, more worried than ever.

"Sorry," she murmured keeping her eyes glued to the ground.

" _Look_ _at_ _me,_ _Liv,_ _"_ he thought.

"Shall we?" Nikolai called, motioning for Elliot to follow.

Elliot continued to keep Olivia pressed tightly against his side as they ventured back down the dark, cement hallway. He did so under the guise of offering her stability, but he wondered whether it was really more for his own benefit. He knew all too well how close he had come to losing her. His mind continued to replay the last few moments with Nikolai over and over again, and he attempted to pull her even more closely to him. She was trembling, but even this was reassuring; she was still with him.

At the end of the hall, the man thrust the hoods back at them. "You know the drill," he said.

Olivia tightened her grip on Elliot. As it was, she was having enough trouble getting her bearings, let alone if her sight was retaken from her. Elliot allowed her to lean against him, waiting until he was sure that she was steady before releasing her just long enough to pull the hood over her head. Elliot watched as Nikolai and his bodyguards disappeared through the door and caught a brief glimpse of the two cars that awaited them.

"Let's go," the man snapped impatiently.

Elliot regarded him coolly before yanking the other hood over his head.

The man took hold of his shoulder, shoving Elliot forward until they reached the car. Elliot placed a hand on the roof, slowly lowering himself as he continued to try to help Olivia maneuver as much as possible. She followed his cues and climbed in after him. This time she continued to slide across the seat so that she was sitting directly beside him. The door was shut behind her, and the car pulled out almost immediately after they heard the man take his place beside the driver.

Olivia no longer cared about how Elliot might interpret her actions, but curled herself into his side, snaking her arm underneath the flaps of his jacket and clutching onto his shirt. She needed to be close to him. She could find the strength to withstand anything Elliot had to say or do to her, but she was terrified at the prospect of being apart from him – left at the mercy of Nikolai or one of his men, especially now that she was in no condition to put up a fight.

Elliot kept his arm around her shoulders. He was relieved that Olivia was not attempting to put more distance between them, but was simultaneously worried beyond belief at what it meant that proud, stubborn, Olivia Benson was no longer making any effort to mask her vulnerability. He decided that for the duration of the car ride, Carl would just have to take a backseat to Elliot. With Nikolai in the vehicle in front of theirs, he felt that this gave them a smidgen of breathing room. He just hoped that the henchman was not swift enough to pick up on any discrepancies in terms of the profile.

Olivia felt the second that Elliot's body language shifted, and even before he had moved, the knowledge of what he was doing – breaking profile for her, was overwhelming. She did not understand how she could possibly have any tears left to shed, but there they were again. She should have protested, done something to force him to remain in character, but she didn't. She needed him to be Elliot so badly.

He turned into her ever so slightly, leaning back along the seat and briefly bringing up his hand to coax her head onto his chest. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and used the arm that was wrapped around her to pull her closer into his warmth, trailing his hand back and forth along her arm. He wanted to wrap his other arm around her, but knew that that would raise too great of a red flag, so instead he kept his hand on the armrest, bracing them against the movements of the car.

She was silent, but he felt every jerky breath she took and knew that she was crying again. "Shhh," he uttered so softly he doubted she would be able to hear him, but she did and it only intensified her quiet sobs as she clung to him more tightly. She hadn't thought that she had a guard to let down anymore, but apparently she had, and Elliot was melting it away.

He concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, hoping to be able to calm her by projecting as much stillness as possible. The steady rise and fall of his chest gradually did begin to soothe her, her breathing quieting as she regained her composure. She flattened her palm against him, slipping her fingers through the gaps created by the buttons of his shirt and resting them against his skin. She knew that the sense of calm was transitory, but she attempted to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible. _T_ _his_ was Elliot, she reminded herself, feeling guilty for having struggled at times to separate Carl's actions from his own.

After what seemed like ages, the car began to slow considerably and each of them tensed. Though she stayed closely beside him, Olivia removed her hand, taking hold of his jacket instead. Elliot straightened, reluctantly pulling his arm away from her and stretching it along the top of the seat back. They heard the soft thump of doors shutting from Nikolai's vehicle and muffled voices speaking from beyond the confines of their own. Their chaperone left the front passenger seat, joining in the conversation before the door beyond Olivia opened and the rush of cold air met their skin.

"You can take off the hoods," he informed them. "You won't need them here."

Olivia and Elliot pulled them off, grateful to have their sight restored. Olivia ran her hands through her hair, swiping at the remnants of tears that had yet to fully dry upon her face.

"Let's go," Elliot said impatiently.

Olivia slid across the seat with Elliot following closely behind her. Neither she nor Elliot knew the status of her balance, and Elliot wasn't about to allow the man to put his grimy mitts all over her again. Olivia hesitated before attempting to stand, wishing that Elliot were in front of her to give her a hand. She pushed herself off of the seat, relieved to find that her legs were much steadier than the last time, though the pounding in her head increased tenfold when she rose to her feet. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, swaying slightly in the process. Almost immediately she felt Elliot's arms snake around her waist as he moved to stand behind her.

They scanned their environment. They were standing in front of a rundown home in the middle of nowhere. Other than the moonlight and the dim glow of a lamp visible beyond the veiled windows of the building, there were no other sources of light nor signs of civilization as far as the eye could see. The area was heavily wooded and the windy dirt road upon which they stood disappeared into the shadows in either direction. Yet what was perhaps the most unsettling was the silence. Deep, pervasive, silence.

Olivia shivered as much from apprehension at the isolation as from the cold.

Elliot tightened his grasp. "Where the hell are we?" he asked as Nikolai and his bodyguards approached. His words were sharp but his tone was more inquisitive than anything else. He was more sensitive than ever to the need to tread carefully where Nikolai was concerned.

"Come, now, Mr. Edwards. You do not think that I will share all of my secrets so readily, do you?" Nikolai responded.

Elliot shrugged, keeping Olivia pressed tightly against him as he idly rocked from side to side, doing his best to preserve the illusion of indifference. "You're the boss," he said.

Olivia chewed on her lip, keeping her head tilted down toward the ground. She did not want to attract any more attention to herself than necessary. They were already considerably outnumbered – four to two, not including the drivers and whoever else was already inside of the building. She wasn't even sure that she could include herself in the mix at this point given her current physical condition. The ratio was unnerving. Even under the best of circumstances the odds were not in their favor, let alone unarmed.

Elliot was painfully aware of this dynamic, but his concern was centered entirely upon Olivia. He would do everything in his power to protect her, but if, God forbid, something should happen to him… A number of horrific images assailed his mind. Olivia's muscles tensed beneath his arms, and he realized he was probably crushing her. He relaxed his hold somewhat, trying to stay focused. Girl or no girl, he wanted to activate the transmitter as soon as possible. They had no way of knowing how long it would take for their backup to arrive, and Elliot had a sinking feeling that it would be far too long.

Nikolai approached them. "And let me be clear," he continued, indicating the men that surrounded them with a wave of his hand. "When I share something with someone, I expect that my trust will not be broken." He took a hold of Olivia's jaw, forcing her head back against Elliot's shoulder so that she looked him in the eye. "I have inherited a great many things from those who have betrayed me." He raked his eyes over her body with a lascivious glare before shifting his gaze to Elliot, his expression cold, threatening. "I don't give second chances."

Elliot nodded. "I understand."

Nikolai regarded him icily for several moments before he released Olivia, his mood once again abruptly transforming into a disturbing, artificial cheerfulness. "Good," he responded with a Cheshire-like grin that was not reflected in his eyes. "So let's get on with it, shall we?" He turned and walked toward the building as the rest of the group followed.

Elliot kept his right arm around Olivia's waist and slipped his left hand into his pocket. This was potentially as inconspicuous a moment as they would get, and Elliot did not want to take any chances. He activated the transmitter, praying that help would arrive in time.

Olivia caught his motion out of the corner of her eye and hoped that the nightmare would soon be over.

When they reached the doorway, Elliot moved behind her, placing his hands on her hips and following her inside. They found themselves in the front hall, directly in front of a broken staircase leading to the second floor, which they assumed, given the state of the stairs, was not in use. To the right of them was what had once been the living room. If it had not been for the smattering of furniture and a couple of free standing lamps, the home would have appeared to be completely abandoned. There was no heat, and for some reason it felt colder indoors than it had outside. One of Nikolai's bodyguards closed the door behind them, stationing himself in front of it for what appeared to be the long haul. Upon entering the room they counted two more men, and after a few moments a third emerged from a door along the far wall.

Elliot observed their silent, predatory appraisal of Olivia, and while none of the men had made any advances, he was becoming increasingly concerned for her safety. Far too many men. Far too many weapons.

Olivia's heart was slamming in her chest. If something went wrong, there was no way that she and Elliot could fend off this many armed attackers. She backed up against Elliot, terrified that Nikolai would take him down into the basement and leave her alone upstairs.

Nikolai conversed with a couple of his men out of earshot, and then turned to face them. "This way," he gestured to Elliot, who maintained his iron grip on Olivia's hips and moved her forward with him. Thankfully, Nikolai did not protest. Elliot assumed this meant that he enjoyed the power he felt he had over Olivia, and that he wanted to continue to use it to his advantage.

They followed him across the room and into the kitchen, where he gestured to a doorway that contained a staircase leading down to the basement. Elliot shifted, taking hold of Olivia's wrist and moving in front of her, taking the lead down the steps. Nikolai walked behind him, with his second bodyguard and another of his men taking up the rear. There was minimal illumination and Elliot's descent was slow. Once he reached the bottom he stepped aside, allowing Nikolai and the other men to pass, unable to see anything in the darkness. They heard a jingle of a chain, and Nikolai made a quick tugging motion with his arm to turn on a single light bulb dangling overhead.

Their hearts stopped.

There, lying on her side in the middle of a dirty twin mattress on the cement floor, was the little girl. She could not have been more than nine years old. She was nude, bruises riddling her tiny frame, her face hidden underneath a mop of wavy blonde hair. She lay completely still, making no movement that would indicate that she was aware of the presence of the five of them. Had it not been for the rise and fall of her chest that drew attention to the ribs jutting out beneath her pale skin, they would have wondered whether she was still alive.

Olivia whimpered, bringing her hand to her mouth as she fought back tears. She backed away, trying to pull her arm from Elliot, but he maintained his hold on her wrist.

Nikolai smiled at him, cocking an eyebrow as he moved to the edge of the mattress, using his foot to nudge her over onto her back. She did not put up a fight, merely continuing to lie there limply as he bent over her and brushed the hair away from her face. "I'd like you to meet Lara," he said, flashing Elliot an even wider grin.

Elliot swallowed. He felt ill and wondered how the hell he was going to be able to stall until help arrived. He did his best to force a smile on his face. "Lara, huh?"

"Yes," Nikolai responded. "She is a special project of mine," he continued, trailing his fingertips along the side of her face.

Tears spilled out over Olivia's cheeks. She was a beautiful child. Her large green eyes remained glassy, staring off into the distance. Olivia's heart broke with the understanding that the horrors Lara had suffered had caused her to retreat to a remote corner of her mind, detaching herself from a reality that had proved too painful to bear.

"You see, this one is obedient," Nikolai continued. "I realized with Lara, that when you break them in at a young age you don't have to deal with the little… outbursts like we had this evening. Naturally, initially she had her moments. But the young ones are much easier to train." He stood and slowly approached Olivia. "You see, her mother was a lot like you," he sneered, "full of fire and defiance." He brought his left hand up to cup the side of her face. "Always quick to put up a fight, never willing to admit defeat." His expression darkened and he dug the pad of his thumb into the wound on her cheek.

Olivia gritted her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of crying out.

"Eventually, she did see the error of her ways." He increased the pressure, stretching the skin, causing it to reopen and bleed. Only then was he satisfied, shoving her head back forcefully as he turned his attention to Elliot. "Of course," he winked, "by that time I had no more use for her, but I assured her prior to her…disposal," he smirked, "that I would personally see to it that her daughter was taken care of." He turned to look at Lara, erupting into a fit of laughter that chilled them to the bone.

Elliot tried to make himself join in, but the best he could muster was a dull chuckle.

Nikolai's laughter died down and he turned contemplative once more. "Yes, I consider this one my greatest triumph." He looked over his shoulder at Elliot. "You can do anything you can imagine – anything at all, and the most difficulty you'll receive is a few tears."

Olivia was crying in earnest, and Elliot was doing so internally. He looked at Lara, and she might as well have been one of his own girls.

"Please," Nikolai said with a sweep of his arm. "She's all yours."

Elliot tried to stall. "Yeah?" he asked with a smile. God, what were they going to do? As soon as Nikolai realized that he was not going to touch one hair on that child's head, the game would be up. Carl would not have any scruples preventing him from taking what was being offered to him.

Elliot imagined the mass of squad cars currently racing to their location, lights flashing, sirens blaring, and he wondered how far away they were. He wished he had even the faintest idea of their general location. He prayed that Cragen had sent a couple of cars to close in on their first location ahead of time in attempts to minimize the gap, but had no way of knowing whether or not this had been possible. How was he going to protect this little girl? How was he going to protect Olivia?

And then, instead, she protected _him_.

"Carl, no! You can't do this!" she begged, yanking her wrist out of his grasp and grabbing onto both sides of his jacket.

He attempted to wrench himself free. "Get the fuck off me," he snarled.

"No!" she pleaded, becoming increasingly hysterical, "She's just a baby! You can't do this to her!"

He shoved her and she stumbled back. "Shut up!" he snapped.

She immediately returned to his side, taking hold of his arm, which he promptly snatched away from her. He took a few quick strides toward Lara, trusting that Olivia would prevent him from reaching his target.

"No!" she cried, rushing toward him and pulling on his sleeve. She maneuvered herself so that she blocked his path, pushing and then beating her fists against his chest, trying to slow his approach. "Don't touch her! Don't you fucking touch her!" she wailed.

He growled, grabbing her by her upper arms and pivoting to shove her against the wall. "Since when do you think I give a crap about what you want?" he yelled in her face. "Huh? Just where the fuck do you get off thinking I take orders from you?"

She sobbed as he shook her, pain radiating across her shoulder blades as her back struck the wall again. He released her, turning to head back toward the girl.

"You're a fucking bastard!" she yelled after him. She pushed herself off of the wall and began to move toward him. "You have no soul! What, you have to hurt a little girl to make yourself feel like a man?" she goaded.

He whirled around to face her. He was forever grateful for what she was doing, but God, he didn't want to hurt her. He raised his arm and backhanded her across the face. She staggered back from the impact. "What the fuck did you say to me?" he seethed, grabbing her by her hair.

She grimaced but did not back down. "I said you're a fucking coward!" she spat.

From across the room, Nikolai barked a command that neither of them could understand and before either knew what was happening, strong arms grabbed Olivia from behind and hauled her away from him. "No!" she protested, kicking and squirming to try to escape the man's grasp. "Let me go!"

Elliot watched helplessly as the man dragged her across the room. _"Please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _touch_ _her,"_ he thought.

Nikolai strode over to her, slapping her, hard.

She glared at him through her tears.

"If I were you, I would shut that mouth of yours before I shut it permanently," he threatened.

She sobbed, trying once again to wriggle out of the man's grasp, but it was pointless. "She's just a baby," she repeated in despair, shooting an anguished look at Elliot.

"Shut her up," Nikolai commanded and the man placed his hand over her mouth, muffling her cries of protest. Nikolai turned away from her and looked expectantly at Elliot. "Now there will be no more interruptions," he said.

Elliot nodded, glancing around the room. Nikolai's bodyguard maintained a firm grasp on his weapon. The man restraining Olivia would be able to snap her neck in a heartbeat. Christ, what was he going to do? He walked toward the little girl in a predatory fashion, making a full circle around the mattress as he tried to think of a way to buy more time.

"So, you tell me, Nik," he tried, a sinister gleam in his eyes, "What do you want me to do to her?"

Nikolai seemed surprised by the question, but a slow smile spread across his features. "This one is so broken it does not matter. The last time she did not even make a sound. Not even when he made her bleed."

Elliot turned his back on Nikolai, squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his jaw. He would give anything for his sidearm – to be able to spin around and put a bullet between Nikolai's eyes then and there, to hell with the consequences. Where the hell was their backup? He strained his ears, hoping to hear sirens approaching in the distance, but the only sounds he heard were Olivia's stifled sobs. He looked down at Lara and slowly peeled off his jacket, tossing it to the side. He dropped to his knees beside her, blinking back tears as he looked into her haunted, hollow eyes that remained unfocused, staring straight through him. He wondered if this nightmarish existence was all that she had ever known. He trailed his hand over her hair, her tangled waves reminding him of the way that Lizzie's became during her tomboy phase when she refused to have anything to do with a hairbrush. And then it was Lizzie, not Lara, lying on the mattress. Lizzie's broken body. Lizzie's vacant stare.

Olivia watched the motion of his back and knew that he was breaking apart. She knew that it was over. She arched against the man restraining her, lifting up her right leg and scraping her heel down his shin at the same time that she chomped down on his hand. It was not enough to grant her the ability to escape, but it was enough to piss him off.

"Bitch!" the man growled, releasing her mouth as he inspected the damage to his hand.

"You can all go to hell," she snapped.

"Shut up!" Nikolai warned.

Her voice snapped Elliot from his train of thought. "Jesus, Nik," he said turning to face him, "the girl's a fucking icicle. She doesn't even move. I can't get it up if I'm fucking a corpse."

It was the best excuse he could come up with, but it did nothing to improve Nikolai's mood. If this girl was Nikolai's prized project, Elliot had just shat all over it.

"Oh?" Nikolai responded, his eyes narrowing. He whipped out his gun, firing a round mere inches in front of Olivia, before moving closer to her and aiming it at her head. "What about now?" he asked.

Elliot's eyes widened in alarm.

She looked back at him with a mixture of compassion, regret and acceptance, and it was Gitano in reverse.

Another of Nikolai's men hurried down the stairs to determine the source of the gunfire, his own weapon drawn. He looked between Nikolai and Elliot, awaiting instructions.

"My patience is wearing thin," Nikolai hissed. "I've been extraordinarily generous with you, and I don't think you appreciate the opportunities you have been given."

Elliot swallowed.

"Maybe it's time for you to learn some respect," he continued menacingly. He addressed all three of his men with a sweeping gesture of his hand. "Fuck her," he ordered.

"Nik-" Elliot tried in desperation.

"Shut up!" Nikolai interrupted.

Elliot's heart was in his throat. Where the fuck was Cragen? He would gladly accept any punishment from Nikolai if it would spare Olivia. Not this – anything but this.

Olivia struggled with all of her might to break free, watching in terror as the two other men began to close in around her. "No, no, no…" she begged. "Please, no!" She flailed her legs, trying to aim for any sensitive areas that might slow them down, but Nikolai's bodyguard caught them in midair, preventing her attack. She bucked and twisted, trying to do anything to dislodge their hold on her, but it was no use. "No! Stop!" she sobbed as they proceeded to drag her to the ground.

" _Liv!_ _"_ Elliot thought as he watched the scene before him, frantically trying to figure out any plan of attack that could possibly give him an edge against four armed men. He ripped his gaze away from Olivia to look at Nikolai, finding that instead of watching Olivia's assault, Nikolai was intently watching _him_ – smirking at the panic in his eyes that he was completely unable to mask.

"No!" she cried, becoming hysterical as they held her down, one set of arms pulling open her jacket and yanking it up and off of her while others restrained her legs. Once her arms were free from the jacket she attempted to swing at any of their hovering forms, but the man at her head grabbed them and pinned them down on the cold cement floor. "Please, no!" she pleaded, screaming so loudly she was losing her voice. She kept her knees locked tightly together, using every last ounce of strength she had left to try to prevent her attackers from prying them apart.

Olivia's screams reverberated off of the walls, filling the empty space with her terror. Her cries were ripping Elliot in two. He had never felt so powerless. He had returned his gaze to Olivia, but continued to study Nikolai out of the corner of his eye. He had managed to slowly reach his left hand over to take hold of his jacket from where it lay on the floor and was waiting for a moment in which Nikolai's attention shifted to Olivia so that he could make his move.

Olivia whimpered as the third man climbed on top of her, unzipping his fly. He pushed himself back, laughing at her pleas for him to stop as he worked to shove his knee in between her clenched thighs. Eventually she lost the battle, as both he and the man at her feet forced her legs apart. "No!" she wailed, sobbing uncontrollably, waiting for him to push himself inside of her.

This peaked Nikolai's interest, and he turned his head away from Elliot to watch.

Elliot immediately seized the opportunity. He dove forward tossing his jacket diagonally in front of Nikolai to distract him as he attacked, lunging to grab him from behind as he attempted to wrestle his gun away from him. The gun discharged in the process, shooting a hole through the ceiling, but Nikolai had been sufficiently caught off guard and Elliot managed to disarm him.

"Get the fuck off of her!" he yelled, holding the gun to Nikolai's temple, his left arm around his neck.

The three attackers leapt to their feet, guns drawn as they attempted to figure out how to come to the aid of their leader. Olivia scrambled away from them, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"Put the fucking guns down!" Elliot commanded, continuing to use Nikolai as a shield.

"No!" Nikolai growled. "Shoot her!"

The men looked from Nikolai to Elliot and back again, trying to decide whose directive to follow.

And then all hell broke loose.

The sounds of shattering glass and splintered wood resounded from above them, followed by multiple gunshots. "Freeze, NYPD! Get down on the floor!" came the muffled shouts from upstairs, followed by another wave of gunfire.

"Go!" Nikolai ordered, and one of the men nodded and raced up the stairs.

"I said put the fucking guns down!" Elliot yelled jabbing the gun against Nikolai's skull.

"Shoot her!" Nikolai snapped. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

The man who had intended to be the first to rape her spun around to face her, preparing to fire. Elliot immediately removed the gun from Nikolai's temple and shot the man in the back of the head. He immediately crumpled, his gun sliding along the floor a few feet in front of his body.

Nikolai took the opportunity to slam his head back into Elliot as he grabbed for the gun. While they struggled, Nikolai's bodyguard raised his weapon, trying to aim for Elliot in the scuffle. Olivia dove for the loose gun on the ground, rolling onto her back and firing a round through the bodyguard's heart and he, too, dropped to the ground.

She watched in alarm as Elliot and Nikolai continued to fight for possession of the gun, their movements too erratic for her to be able to safely aim for Nikolai. Olivia did not have the strength to stand, but she began to crawl toward Lara, wanting to move her to safety.

Elliot slammed Nikolai's hands against the side of the staircase, dislodging the gun in the process, which spun out of reach. Nikolai managed to elbow Elliot in the throat, and he staggered back, losing his balance and falling backward onto the floor. Nikolai saw Olivia's intended destination and he lunged forward, wrenching the gun out of the lifeless hand of his bodyguard. Nikolai began to laugh – the disturbing cackle of a psychotic man who had nothing left to lose. He swiftly aimed the gun at Lara, shooting her in the chest.

"No!" Olivia screamed, the most guttural, defeated cry that Elliot had ever heard.

Nikolai continued to laugh, the sound becoming increasingly high-pitched and fanatical as he raised the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Olivia rushed to Lara's side, applying pressure to the wound, the crimson seeping out beneath her hands at an alarming rate. Lara's eyes were wide, her mouth open as she struggled to take in air. "Stay with me, Lara! Stay with me!" she repeated. "Stay with me, baby! Don't do this!" she sobbed.

Elliot scrambled to his feet, ripping off his shirt and running to crouch beside her. He wadded up the shirt, pressing it over the wound as Olivia quickly removed her hands and replaced them on top of the material.

"Don't you dare do this! You're safe now, do you hear me?" she cried. "We're getting you out of here."

Elliot whipped his head around as he heard footsteps descending the stairs.

"It's me! It's me," Fin's voice called. "You guys alright?"

"We need a bus!" Elliot responded, desperation pervading his tone.

"Got it," Fin replied. "One's already here," he assured them before racing back up the steps.

Elliot pressed his hands over Olivia's, combining their strength to try to control the bleeding.

"You're safe now," Olivia repeated. "Nobody's ever going to hurt you again. Just hang on a little bit longer."

Lara's eyes fluttered closed as she began to lose the ability to cling to consciousness.

"No!" Olivia cried. "Lara, open your eyes! Open your eyes, baby," she pleaded.

Lara struggled to do so, and when she reopened them the slightest flicker of recognition passed across her features – as if she were finally seeing Olivia for the first time.

"Good girl!" Olivia said, smiling through her tears. "That's right, just hang on. I'm here. I'm right here with you and I'm not going anywhere. You're safe now."

Lara's eyes drifted closed again.

"No," Olivia whimpered. "Please, Lara. Stay with me! Stay with me!" her voice cracked as she sobbed.

There was nothing that Elliot could say or do to make any of this better, so he simply interlocked his fingers into the spaces created by her own, praying that they would be granted this one miracle.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Note:_

 _The hard thing about writing chapter notes after the fact, is that it's harder to explain how things were for me when I posted this story the first time. I am opting to quote some of my old author's note, because I remember this feeling so vividly:_

 _"First off, I would like to apologize for taking this long to bring you this update. I had a moment of panic where I felt frozen and worried about letting people down, so I wasn't able to write a word for quite a while. Then, perhaps because it is an angsty chapter, when I finally started writing, it ended up coming extremely slowly. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint." - Me in 2009._

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

"Liv…Liv…" Elliot's voice permeated her senses.

She could barely see through the blur of her tears, vaguely aware that the hands that had covered her own were now lightly resting upon her upper arms.

"The paramedics are here," he explained softly. "We need to let them help her."

Elliot exchanged a glance with the paramedic standing to their right, who nodded as he knelt beside Lara, readying himself to take over. Elliot gently pulled Olivia toward him, wrapping his arms around her from behind as he cradled her arms against her chest. He stood, practically lifting her to her feet as her own legs shook beneath her. The paramedics sprang into action, a flurry of activity that somehow still did not seem fast enough.

The warmth of Elliot's bare chest was not enough to prevent the shivers from coursing through her. She was trembling violently against him, silent but for the reflexive hiccups that betrayed her sobs. Elliot heard voices behind him and knew that Fin had returned, but he kept his back to him, knowing how much Olivia hated to let others get a glimpse of the chinks in her armor and wanting to give her a chance to collect herself. Olivia must have heard Fin as well, as she tensed in his arms, repositioning her feet on the floor in attempts to stand independently. Her knees buckled, but Elliot quickly moved one of his arms around her waist, continuing to support her weight. Olivia let out a small whimper, frustrated by her current state of weakness.

"I've got you," Elliot whispered against her temple. "Just breathe."

Olivia nodded, taking in a long, jerky breath as her diaphragm continued to spasm.

Fin watched them from afar, continuing his conversation with one of the paramedics as he tried to give them some privacy.

After Olivia had taken a few more deep breaths, Elliot murmured, "Okay, I'm going to set you down. Ready?"

Olivia nodded once more.

Elliot slowly lowered her and she locked her knees, feeling shaky but slightly more steady than her last attempt. "Okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," she managed.

He kept his arms wrapped securely around her, not wanting to take any chances. "Okay, can you turn into me?"

Elliot helped her as she slowly pivoted to face him, both of his hands moving to hold her waist.

Her own brushed against his chest, the backs of her hands resting against him as she looked at the blood staining her palms. Her chin quivered as she looked up at him, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own.

"Oh, El," her voice broke. She bit her lip as her eyes welled with tears again.

"I know," he responded throatily.

He shot a glance over her shoulder at the paramedics who had transferred Lara to a stretcher while they continued their frantic efforts against the clock. One had started an IV while another had intubated her and was using an ambu bag to force air into her lungs.

"Sats are dropping," Elliot overheard. He swallowed. Her skin was ashen.

Elliot wrapped one of his arms around Olivia's shoulders, pulling her toward him so that her head was nestled in the crook of his neck, trying to prevent her from watching the scene as the paramedics began to carry Lara toward the stairs. He was unable to obstruct her view completely, and she pulled back as she realized what was happening.

"Please," she said, pleading at him with her eyes, "I need to go with her."

"They're airlifting her to Westchester Medical Center," Fin's voice softly interjected from a few feet behind Elliot. He locked eyes with Olivia. "There's not enough room in the chopper," he said apologetically.

Olivia closed her eyes, but was unable to prevent the tears from escaping. _"_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _right_ _here_ _with_ _you_ _and_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _not_ _going_ _anywhere,"_ her promise echoed in her mind.

"Liv, we'll get there," Elliot assured her.

"Way I drive, we'll be there in an hour and a half, tops," Fin concurred.

Olivia's eyes snapped open. "Where are we?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Greene County," Fin replied. "Up in the Catskills."

No wonder it had taken so long for help to arrive. "And the club?" Elliot asked, turning his head slightly over his shoulder to address him though his gaze remained fixed on Olivia.

"An abandoned warehouse outside of Newburgh," Fin answered. "Munch radioed in a while ago. They have it secured." He cleared his throat, knowing that their minds were focused on the little girl, but trying to give them a silver lining. "Looks like you two brought down something huge. The stuff that was going down in there…" he trailed off.

Another shiver passed through Olivia and Elliot rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms. She was pale and her lips were almost blue from the cold. He drew her to him so that she was flush against his chest, half expecting her to protest, but she was too tired to put the distance between them for the sake of appearances. Despite the fact that their lives were no longer in peril, she continued to feel safer in his arms. Elliot rotated them slightly so that he could make eye contact with Fin, drawing his attention to the spot on the floor where Olivia's jacket lay in a crumpled heap. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily as he was flooded by the recollection of Olivia being dragged to the ground…the sound of her cries as her attackers ripped the jacket off of her. He reopened his eyes and tightened his arms around her, doing his best to fight the lump forming in his throat.

Fin nodded his understanding. He couldn't disturb the crime scene, but he lifted a finger to indicate that he would take care of it, exchanging a concerned glance with Elliot as he jogged back up the stairs.

Olivia was still trembling and neither she nor Elliot knew whether it was from the cold or the residual effects of the events of the evening. He continued to rub his hands up and down her arms, trying to afford her some warmth, though the action also granted him an excuse to continue to hold her. Her cheek was pressed against his neck, the thrum of his pulse steady and comforting. She knew that she should move away. They were no longer undercover. Her precarious balance aside, there was no reason for her to remain in his arms – no reason at all, other than the fact that she could not imagine a place that she would rather be.

Jesus, what was she doing? All of the boundaries that they had crossed over the past few hours had opened the floodgates to feelings she had spent years learning to suppress. Somehow the realization of her need for Elliot made her feel more vulnerable than any of the things she had been forced to endure as part of Nikolai's twisted game. She felt paralyzed – caught between the conflicting demands of her shattered psyche and her identity as a detective.

The motion of Elliot's hands had slowed, his repetitive movements transforming into caresses that were more soothing than warming. Other than the occasional tremors that rippled through her, she remained motionless against him. He knew from her silence that she was not crying, but this did nothing to ease his concern. "You still with me?" he asked softly, his voice gravelly.

She swallowed, determined not to break down again, angry with herself for her present inability to mask her fragility. She had promised him that she could handle herself – promised him that she would be okay.

"Liv?" he tried quietly after a few moments when he did not receive a response.

She nodded against him, her throat tight.

Though she could not see it, Elliot's expression melted into one of pure empathy and sorrow. He knew her. He knew what she was doing to herself. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she had nothing to prove, that she did not have to try so damn hard to be strong for him.

To hell with it. They were alone.

He dropped all pretenses of the gesture being anything other than what it was, and brought up his right hand to cradle the back of her head, wrapping his other arm more tightly around her as he pulled her into an embrace. He felt her breathing increase as he held her – her struggles to prevent the dam from breaking, even as he wordlessly granted her the permission to let go – and then one…two warm tears splashed onto his shoulder.

Cragen's voice reached their ears from the floor above.

Olivia stiffened, pulling away from him as she quickly swiped at the moisture on her face.

Elliot clenched his jaw, silently cursing his commanding officer for what was an inadvertent but incredible case of bad timing. He watched Olivia's expression harden as she attempted to present a façade of control. Although she had placed some distance between them, Elliot had not removed his hand from where it rested along the back of her head, his left arm still curved around her waist. He begrudgingly withdrew his hand from her hair, trailing it down until he rested it on her shoulder, framing her neck between his thumb and forefinger.

She met his eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought to keep herself together.

"Liv," he began, his eyes brimming with concern, "our statements," he hesitated.

She blinked against the threat of fresh tears. She had not taken the time to think about this. A wave of anxiety crashed over her.

"I'll say whatever you tell me to," he said earnestly, his thumb gently tracing her collarbone.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her brows knit in apprehension. "I- I don't know," she shook her head, her eyes flitting nervously to the stairs and back to his, knowing that Fin and Cragen would descend at any moment. "If we…if we tell them everything-"

"If we tell them everything," he swallowed, "then we tell them everything that I did to you," he nodded, anguish in his eyes.

Confusion spread across her features, "That _you_ did?" She looked back and forth between his eyes. He couldn't think that he… "El, no," she shook her head, "I meant, what would happen?" She saw the question in his eyes. "Would they," she hesitated, "would they split us up?" she finished, her voice small.

"I don't know," he replied with a sad smile, touched that after everything she had been through, this would even have crossed her mind.

"I can't-" she cut herself off. She was about to say that she couldn't lose him. "We don't tell them," she concluded.

Elliot nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," he said.

They could now clearly hear Cragen and Fin speaking at the top of the stairs.

"But what do we-" she began, her panic evident despite her hushed tone.

Elliot cupped her face in his hands. "We tell them that Nikolai wanted me to rape you," he replied. "We tell them," his voice cracked, momentarily inundated by guilt. _"Please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _do_ _this!_ _P_ _lease,_ _please_ _no!_ _"_ her cries resounded in his mind. He cleared his throat. "We tell them that we put on one hell of a good show."

"They won't believe us," Olivia worried aloud.

"Maybe," he responded truthfully. "But they won't press it tonight."

She nodded. It would at least give them time. She crossed her arms over her chest as the cold once again seeped into her bones. "Everything else – before and after," she instructed through chattering teeth.

"Everything else," he agreed, his hands resuming their previous motion running back and forth along her upper arms.

They heard footsteps on the stairs as Fin returned, followed by Cragen and some detectives from CSU. Fin quickly approached them, a couple of NYPD issue jackets and a T-shirt for Elliot in his arms. Elliot took one of the jackets from him and wrapped it around Olivia's shoulders, placing a hand on her back to steady her as he held one of the sides open to help her slip her arm through the sleeve. He repeated the action on the other side before moving his hands to the front, crisscrossing the oversized material around her as she folded her arms across her chest to hold it in place. Olivia was relieved to be able to be afforded some coverage. She did not need to see herself in a mirror to know that beyond the obvious signs of trauma that marred her cheeks, the rest of her body was most likely covered in bruises as well.

Elliot hesitated, his fingers curled around her biceps, unsure of whether she felt able to stand independently. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, waiting until she nodded before he released her to take the T-shirt from Fin, pulling it over his head as Cragen headed their way.

Cragen had not missed the exchange, lines of worry etched in his features as he took in Olivia's battered condition. "You two okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning their faces.

"Yeah, Cap," Olivia responded, still hoarse and unable to do a thing about it.

Cragen looked from her to Elliot who finished putting his arms through the sleeves. "She has a concussion," Elliot responded in no uncertain terms. "She needs to get checked out."

Olivia shot him an irritated glance. He returned it with a look of warning.

"I don't want to take any chances," he continued, addressing his comment to Cragen although she knew it was intended for her.

Cragen nodded, turning to her. "Olivia, no arguments," he preempted the inevitable protest he knew to follow.

She sighed. "I'm fine," she argued nonetheless.

"Walk up the stairs," Elliot challenged with an incline of his head and a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, knowing full well that she would be unable to do so independently.

She glared at him. "We're going to Westchester Medical Center anyway. I'll have someone look at me over there," she acquiesced.

Cragen seemed satisfied. "I'll want the MD's report in the morning," he instructed.

Elliot took the other jacket from Fin's outstretched hand with a nod of gratitude. He put it on, resisting the urge to take hold of Olivia's arm again and instead settling on standing close enough to her to be able to catch her should she lose her balance.

Cragen scanned the room, aware that the situation must have quickly escalated out of control and relieved that his detectives were both still standing before him. "You did good work tonight," he commended them, though from the solemn expressions on their faces, he knew that nothing he could say would change the fact that the young girl's life hung in the balance.

For the first time, Elliot and Olivia both took in the carnage around them: the bloodstained mattress, the bodies that littered the floor. Both of their eyes locked on the same figure. Elliot felt his blood boil. Words could not describe the hatred he felt toward this man, the anguish he felt at having had to ally himself with him, the agony he felt at both the torture he had helped to inflict upon Olivia and at his failure to prevent the bastard from shooting that innocent child. Nikolai had spent his life inflicting pain and torment on others. He deserved to suffer a comparable level of hell – at the least to spend decades rotting away in prison, and as far as Elliot was concerned, he had taken the easy way out. Nikolai had nothing to gain by shooting Lara. He had already made the decision to end his own life. He had shot the child purely out of the malevolent desire to break Olivia. He had felt no remorse, no fear. Instead, as Nikolai raised the gun to his own temple, he had felt _satisfaction_.

Olivia stared at Nikolai's lifeless form, halfway convinced that he was going to rise up in front of her. A jumbled blur of images and recollections assailed her, Nikolai's laughter echoing incessantly in her ears. God, what if it had all been for nothing? She bit her lip in attempts to prevent yet another wave of grief from washing over her. Why hadn't she gotten to Lara faster? Her heart pounded in her chest, the rise in blood pressure intensifying the throbbing pain in her head to such an extent that she could do nothing but clutch her head in her hands as a pang of nausea gripped her.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, swaying as she no longer had a means of orienting herself. Elliot's arm was immediately around her waist. He looked at Cragen in alarm. "I know you need our statements," he began, "but-"

Fin stepped forward. "I'll take her to Westchester Medical Center now – make sure she gets checked out," he assured him. "I can take her statement," he addressed Cragen.

Cragen nodded, equally troubled. "Elliot and I will meet you there," he replied.

Elliot nodded his assent, knowing that Cragen would need him to remain there to go over the scene and give him his statement. After everything they had been through, the idea of being separated from Olivia for any period of time was a bitter pill to swallow, but he knew he had to follow procedure. "Okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she responded, setting her jaw as she reopened her eyes.

Fin came to Olivia's other side, snaking his arm around her waist as Elliot removed his own. "Okay, you ready?" he asked her.

"Ready," she confirmed.

Elliot watched as they slowly made their way across the basement. When they reached the foot of the stairs, he called out, "Fin?"

"Yeah?"

"She uh, she took several blows to the head tonight," he said with regret. "Make sure they know that."

"Will do," Fin replied.

Elliot watched their slow ascent up the stairs, wishing that he could be the one beside her.

"Elliot," Cragen spoke in a low tone. "She's in good hands. She'll be okay."

Elliot swallowed. "Yeah, Cap," he acknowledged.

As worried as he was about her physical condition, he was more concerned about her emotional state should she arrive at the hospital only to find that Lara had not made it.

Cragen knew that Elliot held himself responsible for everything that had happened to both Olivia and the little girl, but he needed for his detective to stay focused. "Alright, Elliot. Walk me through this," he prompted, interrupting his train of thought.

Elliot nodded. The sooner they got through this, the sooner they would be able to leave this godforsaken place.

* * *

Olivia finished speaking and clicked off the digital voice recorder, placing the device in one of the cup holders between the seats. She could not remember ever having felt this degree of fatigue. Fin was silent beside her, his eyes focused on the road ahead. She turned her head to the right, watching the blurry landscape come in and out of view as the flashing lights of the cruiser illuminated the night. They had been driving for at least an hour, speeding down the deserted highway toward the promise of civilization. She had insisted upon giving her statement along the way. She had told Fin that it would save them time, but they both knew that this was only a half-truth. It was going to be difficult enough for her to recount the events of the evening, let alone sitting face to face under the glaring fluorescent lights of a hospital room. She could not bear the thought of being put on display in that manner – her emotional pain as starkly evident as her physical wounds. And so, instead, they had carried out the dialogue side by side, cloaked in darkness.

He drove for a few minutes before breaking the silence. "You gonna tell me what really happened in that room?" he asked softly. He studied her out of the corner of his eye, noticing the quick rise and fall of her chest, her fingers that had stilled their anxious workings of a stray thread on the cuff of her sleeve.

She swallowed, her throat scratchy from overuse. So much for Fin not pressing the issue tonight. "I already told you," she lied, looking down at her hands.

He nodded slowly. "Okay," he replied thoughtfully.

Olivia chewed on the insides of her cheeks, her breathing shallow as she felt a cold feeling of dread spread throughout her system. She hadn't expected him to believe her, but she hadn't expected him to call her out on it either. She closed her eyes, cursing herself for being so transparent. God, what had she done? What if she had just cost them their partnership? She wished Elliot were there with her. Her chest ached and she felt overwhelmingly hollow.

"Hey," Fin soothed. "Liv," he gently urged, his eyes full of compassion as she raised her head and tentatively met his gaze. "I've got your back," he assured her.

She drew her lower lip into her mouth, nodding up at him, traces of fear still visible in her eyes. A lock of hair fell forward over her cheek and she lifted a shaky hand to tuck it behind her ear. She returned her gaze to her window, allowing her head to rest against the seat back. She was so tired. She wrapped her arms around herself, slumping down in her seat as she watched the silhouettes of the treetops flit against the backdrop of the moon. As the minutes stretched on, her blinks became slower, her eyelids heavier until they finally drifted closed.

* * *

Fin turned off the engine and looked over at Olivia's sleeping form. He hated to wake her. "Liv," he called.

She didn't stir.

"Liv," he tried again a bit louder.

When he still did not get a response he reached over and lightly shook her shoulder. She immediately startled, whipping her head around as she reflexively brought up an arm to protect herself.

He raised his palms in a non-threatening gesture. "It's me, it's me," he mollified. "Sorry, Liv." He hadn't meant to frighten her, but he couldn't say that he was surprised by her reaction. "We're here," he explained.

She brought a hand to her head, the pain returning with a vengeance. "Where?" she asked groggily.

"At the hospital," he clarified.

She nodded. "Sorry," she replied, dropping her hand to her lap. "Lara?" she asked anxiously as her awareness increased.

He shook his head. "Haven't heard anything yet. We'll check," he assured her. He got out of the car and came around to open her door, offering his arm as he helped her to her feet. His brow furrowed as he saw her grimace. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied with a wry smile. "You think they've got any painkillers in there?" she quipped, glancing over his shoulder.

Fin grinned at her, wrapping his arm around her as they started to head toward the building. "Yeah, baby," he drawled. "I'll hook you up," he joked, his tone pure street. "Vikings, Percs, Oxies…" he rattled off. "Only the best for my girl," he told her, punctuating his statement with an affectionate squeeze from the arm that encircled her waist.

She laughed, the action a welcome change of pace from the lake of tears she had shed over the course of the evening. It did nothing to help her head, but she didn't care.

"Whatever you need," he said as they reached the entrance. His eyes twinkled down at her, but she heard the subtle shift in the timbre of his voice and understood that he was no longer talking about medication.

She smiled up at him. "Thanks."

They made their way across the lobby. Fin flashed his badge as they approached the security desk, the officer directing them to a nearby nurse's station. Fin inquired about Lara first, knowing that Olivia would refuse to sit still for any tests of her own before she learned of her condition. Olivia anxiously drummed her fingers on the counter while one of the nurses scrolled through records on her computer and made a couple of phone calls to different units. The nurse finally hung up the phone, looking between them before focusing on Olivia with a sympathetic expression. "She was rushed to the OR a little over an hour ago," she explained. "She's still in surgery."

Olivia nodded, her heart sick with worry. "Thank you for your help," she managed. "Is there a place we can wait?" she asked her.

"Oh, no you don't," Fin shook his head, speaking over her.

"But-" she began.

"Not gonna happen," he said firmly. "We need to get you checked out."

"Fin, it can wait," she argued.

"Liv, there's nothing you can do right now anyway," he reasoned. "You know it'll only be harder for you to stay away once she gets out of surgery."

Olivia sighed. It was clear that he wasn't backing down, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was probably right. "Okay," she conceded.

* * *

Elliot hurriedly made his way through the maze of hospital corridors in what he had been told was the general direction of the PICU. He burst through yet another set of double doors, relieved when he finally caught sight of Fin at the far side of the hall. "How is she?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

Fin didn't have to ask to know to whom he was referring. "Liv's fine," he replied. "They did a CT scan just to be on the safe side."

"But she's okay," Elliot repeated, needing the reinforcement.

Fin nodded, offering him a hint of a smile. "Looks like our girl's as hard-headed as we thought."

Elliot took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand across the back of his head. "What about Lara?" he asked hesitantly, not sure that he wanted to hear the answer.

Fin lowered his voice, indicating a room a few feet away with an incline of his head. "She's in pretty bad shape, Elliot. They don't know if she's gonna pull through."

Elliot nodded, worry clouding his features as he stared at the door. "How long has she been in there with her?" he asked.

"A while," Fin responded, his expression grave.

Elliot swallowed.

"Cap around?" Fin asked.

"He's here. Munch called when we pulled up. Wanted to give him a status report," he explained.

"I'll fill him in," Fin replied.

Elliot nodded before slowly heading toward the room.

Fin walked a few paces down the hall before pivoting back around to face him. "Elliot," he called as an afterthought.

Elliot turned his head to look at him, his expression drawn.

Fin shifted his weight somewhat uncomfortably. "It's, uh, it's good that you're here, man," he said before continuing on toward the exit.

Elliot paused at the door, closing his eyes with a sigh as he mentally prepared himself for what lay beyond the threshold. He slowly turned the handle, slipping inside and quietly closing the door behind him.

Olivia was sitting in a chair at the bedside, her back toward him as she clasped one of Lara's small hands in between her own.

Elliot's heart sank as he took in the sight before him. Lara was still intubated, hooked up to a ventilator that was breathing for her. Her chest was bare but for the gauze that covered her wounds. Chest tubes had been inserted into her left side, though Elliot was barely able to distinguish these from the seemingly tangled mass of lines and wires that extended from her tiny frame, the purpose of which he could only hope would succeed in saving her life. The room was silent but for the soft, rhythmic sigh of the ventilator and the occasional muted sounds of voices and footsteps that wafted in from beyond the door.

Elliot had not spoken, but Olivia had immediately known that it was he who was there. She addressed him quietly, her voice raw with emotion and fatigue. "The bullet punctured her lung…shattered one of her ribs. They, um," she paused, trying to maintain her composure. "They had to go in and remove the bone fragments…try to repair the damage. But," she stopped, her voice wavering.

He waited for her.

"But, she arrested twice during surgery. She had lost so much blood…" she trailed off, staring at the vibrant red glow of the pulse oximeter probe wrapped around Lara's finger. "They don't know if-" her voice cracked.

Elliot slowly approached her, resting his palms lightly on her shoulders. Olivia closed her eyes at the contact. His presence was reassuring – as if by simply being there he could somehow manage to tip the scales in their favor.

"God, El," she exhaled, reopening her eyes to look at Lara, "Why didn't I get to her in time?"

He spoke softly but firmly. "In time for what? For you to be lying here instead of her?"

She didn't respond.

"This isn't your fault, Liv," he said, curling his fingers around her. "I should never have let him get to that gun."

"No, El," she shook her head, lifting her right hand from Lara's and reaching across herself to place it on top of his left. "You did everything you could."

"So did you," he replied, hooking his thumb over hers.

They remained like that for an indeterminable amount of time, each lost in their own thoughts as they gazed down at the little girl for whom they had risked everything in attempts to protect. The possibility that all of their efforts and sacrifices might have been made in vain was unfathomable, and they each tried to push the thought aside. It was too painful.

Eventually they were shaken from their thoughts as the door opened and a nurse entered the room.

Olivia self-consciously slipped her hand from his, once again struck by the feeling that she had been doing something wrong. She felt Elliot's hands lift from her shoulders and wondered if he felt similarly.

"I just need to check her vitals," the nurse explained quietly as she came around to the opposite side of the bed. "Your Captain is here," she added as she fitted the blood pressure cuff around Lara's arm.

Elliot nodded. "Thank you."

Olivia turned her head over her shoulder to glance up at him for the first time. "I hate to leave her alone," she said, absently stroking the back of Lara's hand.

Elliot took in her weary expression, the bruises on her face, the butterfly bandage that now covered the gash left by Nikolai's gun. "I know," he replied, his eyes full of understanding, "but you need to get some rest."

"She's under heavy sedation," the nurse added gently. "They want to keep her that way for at least the next few days for pain management and healing."

Olivia nodded, returning her gaze to Lara again before flattening her palms against the mattress as leverage as she pushed herself to her feet. She leaned forward to brush Lara's hair back as she placed a kiss on her forehead, blinking back tears as she straightened and turned to face Elliot.

"Okay," she said, visibly struggling to contain her emotions.

"Okay," he replied, offering her his arm.

After a slight hesitation she took it. As much as her pride wanted to assert its independence, the state of her physical strength and balance remained shaky at best.

They found Cragen in the hall, leaning against the wall.

"Sorry, Cap," Elliot began. "We didn't know that you were here."

Cragen shook his head. "No apologies necessary. I just finished up with Fin. Olivia," he addressed her, "I'm glad to hear the head's okay."

"Nothing a little Advil won't fix," she responded, her words doing nothing to mask the sadness in her eyes.

Fin emerged from the double doors at the end of the hall, followed by another officer.

Elliot looked at Cragen with a question in his eyes.

"I'm going to keep a detail on Lara just to be on the safe side," Cragen explained. "It looks like you two brought down a big operation. We have a lot of people in custody, but until we know just how big, I don't want to take any chances." He paused, looking between Elliot and Olivia, not wanting to cause any undue alarm but wanting them to remain alert nonetheless. He held Elliot's gaze, choosing his words carefully. "Nikolai may be out of the picture, but I want to know the hierarchy."

Olivia's grip tightened on his arm, and Elliot knew that Cragen's meaning had not been lost on her either: where one leader falls, another rises. Nikolai had to have had a point person – a second in command. Until they had interrogated the men in custody and identified the bodies on the ground, they would have no way of knowing if they had all of the key players – no way of knowing whom they might have pissed off.

The silent warning was crystal clear.

 _Watch_ _your_ _backs._

Elliot nodded. "Understood."

"In the mean time, get some rest. We'll handle the interrogations for now, but keep your phones on. I'll try not to bring you in tomorrow unless I have to."

"Thanks, Cap," Olivia managed croakily.

Cragen looked over at Fin who nodded and approached them.

"Looks like I'm your ride tonight," he said. "You ready?"

Olivia looked toward Lara's door. The nurse had assured her that Lara would not be waking up any time soon, but her heart ached at the thought of her lying there all alone.

"They'll take good care of her, Liv," Elliot murmured.

Olivia pressed her lips together and nodded.

Elliot exchanged a glance with Fin and they all proceeded down the hall. Elliot could feel Olivia's arm shaking from the effort of steadying herself and he repositioned them, once again snaking his arm around her waist to support the bulk of her weight as she leaned against him.

When they reached the car he helped her into the backseat and slid in behind her without hesitation. Fin was not surprised by Elliot's actions and simply took his place behind the wheel. He turned on the turret lights as soon as they reached the parkway. There were very few cars on the road, but it gave him the excuse to speed that much more quickly. He glanced in the rearview mirror from time to time along the way, his mind focused on what Olivia had confirmed by omission. Elliot's left arm remained draped across her shoulders, the tension in his jaw evident as he stared out of the window. Fin could only imagine what was going through his head – none of it good, he was sure. He knew that Elliot would do anything in his power to protect her – anything to prevent someone from hurting her. He'd been on the receiving end of that rage just one day prior. For _Elliot_ to have been the one to inflict any pain or suffering… Fin tightened his grip on the wheel. There was no doubt in his mind that every decision Elliot had made tonight had been a necessary one. He had been partnered with him enough times to know this. But even if Elliot's actions had saved their lives, Fin knew that he would never forgive himself for hurting her.

Olivia was tucked into Elliot's side, resisting the urge to rest her head on his shoulder as the movement of the car brought her exhaustion to the forefront. She felt somewhat reassured by her earlier conversation with Fin, but was still cognizant of the fact that they were most likely going to be under a microscope for the foreseeable future. She clutched onto the oversized fabric of her jacket, her hands hidden within the sleeves as she rested them between her knees. Her head was hurting again, having opted for an over the counter painkiller instead of a prescription strength one. She did not want to run the risk of taking something stronger for fear of it knocking her out. Having felt powerless and frightened for such a prolonged period of time, she desperately felt the need to regain a sense of control. The idea of taking something that could dampen her awareness only heightened the overwhelming feeling of anxiety that had yet to dissipate.

As if on cue, she jumped slightly as the car drove over the rumble strips leading up to the Henry Hudson Bridge, the sound unexpected after the silence of the ride thus far. Elliot turned toward her, his eyes scanning her face, but she avoided his gaze and looked down at her lap, embarrassed by her overreaction. Elliot said nothing but brought his right hand to briefly rest upon her forearm, offering her a gentle squeeze of reassurance before letting go and returning his arm to the spot where it had rested against the door.

She breathed a sigh of relief as Fin finally pulled up beside the row of parked cars that lined the curb in front of her apartment. He came around to open their door, waiting as Elliot climbed out and helped her to her feet. She stared at her building. "Shit, El," she cursed in irritation, "My key was in my jacket." The last thing she wanted to do was go through the hassle of picking the lock to her own apartment.

"I got it," he replied, pulling his from one of the rear pockets of his jeans, his heart stopping momentarily as he almost reached into the pocket that contained the telltale scraps of black lace instead.

"You all set?" Fin asked.

"Yeah," Elliot affirmed. "Thanks for the ride."

Fin nodded. "You two lie low for a while," he urged.

"Keep us updated?" Elliot requested.

"You got it," Fin replied, walking around the vehicle to return to the driver's seat.

Elliot and Olivia made their way up the front steps and into the building. She inwardly groaned as she took in the countless number of stairs leading up to her apartment. Of course she had to live in a walk-up.

"Almost there," Elliot murmured, sensing her hesitation.

They began their slow ascent, Elliot's arm securely around her waist.

Halfway up the flights of stairs, Olivia's frustration won out. She was tired of feeling so damned dependent. "God, El," she stopped with a sigh, "I'm sorry."

"Stop," Elliot softly warned. "You're doing fine."

Her lips were pressed into a thin line. God, she felt like such a burden.

"You know," Elliot remarked with thinly veiled amusement, "If I didn't know you better, I would have slung you over my shoulder from the start, but I happen to value my life."

"So help me, Elliot, you are _not_ carrying me up the damn stairs," she grumbled.

"Exactly," he finished. "So let's just take these one at a time," he appeased.

She let out an exasperated sigh but resumed her efforts as he patiently moved along beside her.

They eventually reached her apartment, Olivia's legs feeling leaden beneath her. She allowed herself to lean against him as he unlocked her door, stepping inside and blinking against the brightness as he flipped the switch on the wall. He helped to ease her down so that she was perched on the back of an armchair, making sure she was steady before moving to lock her door, putting the chain on and shrugging out of his jacket as he turned around to face her.

She regarded him wearily, her brow arching slightly as she gradually processed his actions.

"I'm not leaving," he said simply, leaving no room for discussion.

She cleared her throat softly, looking down at her feet. "I wasn't going to make you," she admitted, her voice small. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could somehow conceal her vulnerability by retreating farther into the protective layers of the jacket that engulfed her. She could feel his eyes on her and she bit her lip, feeling timid under his silent appraisal as it suddenly dawned on her that they were alone.

"Liv," he said quietly. "I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," he murmured. He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall, trying to make himself less of a potentially intimidating presence.

"El, it's not you," she assured him. "I honestly feel better that you're here. I just, um," she hesitated, not wanting him to take her words the wrong way. "I'm feeling, um…" she trailed off. God, why was it so difficult for her to say it? She was feeling dirty and ashamed – as if he were able to look at her and see the traces of filth left behind by the room, the mattress, the basement, Nikolai…by the hands that held her down on the cold cement floor. "I just want to shower and change," she finished, darting her eyes up to look at him with a tentative expression.

The anguish that spread across his features was instantaneous, and despite his quick attempts to mask it, she saw it as clear as day.

"El," she tried, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor. "Elliot," she implored him. He hesitantly met her gaze, the guilt in his eyes unmistakable. "I said it's not you," she repeated, her voice shaky. She looked away from him, once again on the verge of tears.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "What can I do?" he asked. "Are you okay to, uh," he paused, not quite sure how to continue.

"I think I'll be okay," she responded, praying that it was the case. "If… if you could maybe just walk with me?" she asked gesturing to the hall.

"Sure," he said, pushing off of the wall as he slowly approached her. He simultaneously offered her his right arm as he wrapped his left around her, helping her to her feet as they began to make their way down the hall. He brought her to her bedroom first, setting her down on the foot of her bed so that she could get some clothes from her dresser. While she did so he walked across the hall to the bathroom, starting to run the water for her. He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to find her in the doorway, holding a change of clothes in her arms. She had taken off her heels, the change in height somehow making her appear that much more fragile. "Hey," he said, concern in his eyes as the bathroom light caused her injuries to stand out more starkly. He tentatively stepped toward her, raising his hand and gingerly touching the backs of his fingers to the left of the gash that marred her cheekbone.

"Looks worse than it feels," Olivia responded, trying to set his mind at ease.

"I'll bet," he replied, not believing her for one second. He held her gaze, his eyes brimming with pain and regret. "Water's probably warm," he said as he withdrew his hand, his voice choked with emotion.

'Thanks," she whispered as he brushed past her into the hall.

"You'll call if you need anything?" he asked.

She nodded.

He remained in the hallway long after she closed the door, immobilized by the weight of his guilt. Eventually he forced himself to move away, Cragen's words of warning echoing in his ears. He went into Olivia's bedroom, checking the locks on the windows and drawing the curtains before heading into the living room to do the same. He took a moment to scan the street below, but nothing seemed out of place. He turned away, sinking down into the couch with his head in his hands. He had to keep himself together for her sake. Only when he was sure she was settled would he allow himself to let go.

* * *

Olivia placed the pile of clothes on the counter, finally removing the jacket behind which she had hidden for the past few hours. She reached behind herself to unzip her dress, wincing as her arms and back protested the action. Her entire body ached. She carefully peeled the material down her torso and over her hips, stepping out of it as it pooled at her feet. She looked at herself in the mirror and it was as if a stranger was reflected back at her. Her body was covered in bruises, her eyes haunted and reddened from crying. She brought her hand to her face, lightly trailing her fingertips over the fresh bruises that now covered the one left by Fin, across the translucent bandage that only partially concealed the cut on the opposite side, along the marks that encircled the column of her throat. Her gaze fell lower and she bit her lip as she brought a trembling hand to her left breast that Nikolai had so painfully squeezed as she knelt at Elliot's feet. Almost the entire expanse of skin was purple, the pattern leaving no doubts as to the cause of the injury. A shudder ran down her spine as a tear rolled down her cheek.

It was as if his hand were still there.

She gingerly prodded the tender flesh, inhaling sharply through her teeth even after her mental attempts to steel herself against the anticipated pain. What the visual reminder hadn't done, the sensory one did, and it was as if she could once again feel the cold, hard cement beneath her knees, the pressure of Nikolai's gun shoved forcefully against the base of her skull. She swallowed a sob, turning away from the mirror and carefully stepping over the side of the tub and into the spray. She kept one palm against the tiles to steady herself, closing her eyes as she let the water run over her face. Every inch of her body hurt, the pressure of the water that drummed against her causing her to feel her injuries more acutely.

She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, reaching to pick up a bottle of body wash and squeezing a generous amount into her palm. She began to spread it over herself, clenching her jaw as she ignored the pain, determined to wash away the ghosts and grime that coated her skin. The soapy rivulets ran down her body and drew her attention to the soreness between her legs, irrefutable evidence that Elliot had, in fact, been inside of her. She gently washed herself and was once again overcome by a flood of images and conflicting emotions: the fear she had felt at the persona Elliot had had to adopt despite her unwavering trust in him, the vulnerability she had felt at having been unable to mask the depths of her feelings for him, the bliss she had felt when he had held her in his arms, and the overwhelming void she had felt when he had pulled away. It was that last thought that ultimately undid her. For one brief moment, insulated from all of the violence, cruelty, and fear, for the first time in her life she had felt whole. And it had been stolen from her.

She slowly sank to her knees, her body wracked with violent sobs. She brought the back of her hand to her mouth to muffle her cries, shifting so that she sat on the floor of the tub. She thought of Nikolai, the cold amusement in his eyes as he violated her, the feel of the metal twisting inside of her as she helplessly waited for him to pull the trigger. She thought of Harris. She thought of the men in the basement, the arms that restrained her as they dragged her to the ground. And she thought of Lara, her frail, broken body and her hollow, vacant stare. She saw the bullet enter Lara's chest again, and again, and again, the echoes of the gunfire replaying as incessantly as Nikolai's crazed laughter in her ears. She pulled her knees into her chest as she wept, the steady trickles of water that rained down upon her combining with her tears.

* * *

Something was wrong.

He could still hear the water running, but she had been in there for far too long. He slowly approached the bathroom door, straining his ears to discern any sounds of activity from within. Eventually he called out to her, his voice just loud enough to carry over the hiss of the shower and the wooden barrier between them. "Liv?"

She did not respond.

He raised his voice. "Liv?" he tried again, worry evident in his tone.

Nothing.

His heart was pounding in his chest. He drew a hand along his jaw, gaining the courage to open the door. "Liv, I'm coming in," he warned. He tested the doorknob, relieved to find that it was unlocked. He opened it slowly, wanting to give her an opportunity to stop him, but she did not make a sound.

"God, Liv," he said in alarm as she came into view. She was still seated on the floor of the tub with her knees pulled into her chest, her back directly under a torrent of water that had long run cold. He rushed to her side, turning off the faucet and wrapping a towel around her shoulders. She was shivering, her eyes glassy as she stared ahead. He crouched beside her, wrapping his arms around her as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms and back. "Liv," he called softly. "Liv, you're home. You're safe," he said, his heart breaking. "You're safe now," he repeated. He shifted so that he was able to face her, cupping her face in his hands. He tilted her head toward him so that he could look into her eyes, trying to coax her back to the present. He gently brushed the hair back from her face, searching her expression for any signs of recognition. "Liv, look at me. Come back to me," he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Please, Liv," he murmured, stroking the pads of his thumbs back and forth along her hairline.

She blinked, her breathing changing as her eyes seemed to refocus, finally seeing him before her.

"Hey," he said softly, his expression a mixture of anguish, compassion and relief.

Her chin quivered as she realized where she was, feeling incredibly ashamed.

"It's okay," he soothed. "You're okay."

One by one the tears spilled over onto her cheeks. The more she struggled to prevent them, the harder they seemed to fall, her chest beginning to spasm as she fought to contain the sobs within.

"It's okay," he said, continuing to caress the sides of her face with his thumbs. "It's just you and me," he assured her.

She took in a shuddering breath, quietly whimpering as he pulled her toward him so that her head rested on his shoulder.

"Just you and me," he repeated, cradling the back of her head in his palm.

A sob escaped her lips and she began to cry in earnest, the sounds reverberating off of the tiles as he held her.

"Shh…shh…I've got you…you're safe now…" came his softly spoken words of reassurance, drifting in and out of her awareness as the tides of her grief ebbed and flowed. He continued to hold her long after her tears had subsided, slowly and repetitively running his fingers through her hair. Her head grew heavier against him, the tension gradually leaving her body as he eased it away.

Eventually he pulled back, studying her face as he murmured, "Let's get you out of here, okay?"

She nodded, looking uncertainly between him and the dark green towel that enveloped her.

"Okay, can you put your arm around my shoulders?"

She carefully extricated her arms from the towel, using her left hand to hold it closed around her. She wrapped her right arm around his shoulders as his arms encircled her waist, helping to lift her to her feet. She stepped her right leg out of the tub. Her body was stiff and achy, and she pitched forward slightly when she brought her left leg to join the first, her chest bumping against his in the process.

"Ung," she grimaced.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked in concern.

"It's nothing," she whispered, her eyes downcast.

"Liv, what's wrong?" he repeated resolutely.

Her face flushed. "El, please? I'm fine. I just have a bad bruise," she mumbled.

His eyes narrowed. "How bad?"

She bit her lip.

"Let me see." He spoke in a low tone, the statement a command though his inflection made it clear that he would not push her if she refused.

A long minute went by before she slowly took hold of the edge of the towel and delicately moved it aside to reveal part of her swollen breast. Her heart was pounding and she tried to keep as much of herself covered as possible.

"Jesus, Liv," he breathed. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his jaw. He forced himself to reopen them, staring at the deep purple that marred her flesh. "Did…did I…" his voice cracked.

Her eyes snapped up to try to meet his, but they remained fixed on her injury.

She covered herself. " _No_ , El," she emphasized, shaking her head. "God, no. It was N-Nikolai, when he, um…" she trailed off. "You didn't hurt me," she said, bringing her palm to rest against his cheek.

He met her gaze, his eyes filled with guilt and self-loathing. "But I did," he said flatly.

She looked at him quizzically, pulling her hand away.

He removed a hand from her waist and gently touched his fingers to her cheek before continuing to indicate the bruises that stood out against her throat, her upper arms, her wrists. "And those are only the ones that I've seen – that I _can_ see," he amended, his throat tight. God only knew the extent of the harm he had inflicted upon her emotionally.

 _You'_ _re_ _a_ _fucking_ _whore._ _You_ _k_ _now_ _you_ _like_ _it._

He felt ill.

"El-" she began to protest.

"It's late," he said huskily, feeling his control slipping away. He looked away. "You need to get some rest."

"Elliot?" she pleaded, watching his silent struggle. He was retreating inside of himself and she wanted to reach him before he shut down completely. "Please talk to me," she whispered.

He blinked against the moisture accumulating in his eyes. "Tomorrow," he replied darting his eyes up to meet hers in attempts at reassurance. "We can talk tomorrow."

"Okay," she murmured, dropping her gaze.

"I'll uh…I'll let you change," he stammered.

He backed up slightly at her nod, turning and walking into the darkened hallway and slowly pulling the door shut behind him. He needed to keep moving – as if he could somehow outrun his thoughts as long as he kept himself occupied. He went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap enough to break the seal before retightening it. He carried it back with him as he waited for her, tilting the bottle from side to side as he watched the pocket of air travel along the interior.

A few moments later he saw the knob turn, the sliver of light gradually broadening as she opened the door. She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue T-shirt, her damp hair falling around her face in half-drying waves.

She looked back at him somewhat tentatively, still ashamed by her breakdown.

Once again he was struck by how fragile she appeared, and it was all he could do to stop himself from pulling her into his arms. He took a step forward, extending the bottle of water toward her. "I thought you might need to take something for the pain," he explained quietly.

She nodded, taking the bottle from him. "Thanks." She moved to the medicine cabinet to get the bottle of Advil, dropping a couple of capsules into her palm. She took them in front of him, hoping that it would help to ease his concern about her physical well-being. She turned back around to face him, coming to rest her head against the doorframe.

"You should try to get some sleep," he said, reaching out to lightly touch the outside of her shoulder.

She nodded. "What about you?" she asked.

"I will," he replied. "I think I'll rinse off, if that's okay."

"Sure, El," she said, suddenly feeling badly for not having offered. "I'm sorry," she shook her head. "I wasn't thinking. Let me get you a towel," she said hurriedly, starting to move past him.

"Liv, stop," he said, halting her movements by sidestepping into her path, his hand still on her shoulder. "I'll take care of it."

"Oh, um, okay," she breathed, his proximity making her heartbeat quicken, and this time not from fear. "There are t-towels and blankets in the hall closet, and if you need-"

"Liv," he softly interjected, the corners of his mouth upturning slightly. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," she whispered, feeling nervous and finding it difficult to hold his gaze. "If you're sure…"

"I'll be fine," he repeated. "Get some rest."

She nodded as he let his hand fall back to his side.

She slowly crossed the hall to her bedroom, pausing at the threshold to turn her head over her shoulder. "Night," she said hesitantly, her inflection almost making it a question. After everything they had been through, it did not seem sufficient.

"Night," he responded quietly, watching as the door slowly shut behind her.

He stared at the closed door, overwhelmed by remorse. He forced himself to turn away, retrieving a towel from the closet and making his way into the bathroom. Olivia's towel lay draped over the edge of the tub, her dress in a crumpled heap on the floor. He remained frozen momentarily, his eyes fixed on the spot where he had found her huddled, shivering form.

God, what had he done?

He moved to pick up her towel. When he reached up to hang it over the shower rod he realized that the reason she had left it where she had most likely had nothing to do with her balance and everything to do with the pain in her arms. He squeezed his eyes shut as he cycled through the many times he had forcefully grabbed her over the course of the evening. He saw Olivia's pained, fearful expression as vividly as if she were standing before him…heard her cry out as he slammed her against the wall…

He clenched his jaw.

He reopened his eyes but it did nothing to diminish the intensity of the memories flooding his mind. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and he was once again straddling her, Nikolai's gun cocked at the top of her skull. He unzipped his fly to remove his jeans and he was exposing himself to her as she sobbed at his feet.

He angrily peeled off the remainder of his clothing and turned on the water. He showered quickly. The water was tepid at best but he didn't care. It was not meant to be relaxing, just perfunctory. He shut off the faucet and watched as the remnants of water disappeared in a spiral down the drain, taking with them the last traces of Olivia that had graced his skin. He had put her through hell and back again, and yet as he watched the water swirl away he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the loss.

Christ, he had violated her and he was feeling sorry for himself.

 _Please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _make_ _me_ _do_ _this!_

His chest was tight and his eyes burned. He hated himself.

He stepped out of the shower, toweling off and re-dressing in the same clothes as before for lack of any alternatives. He slowly bent over to pick up her dress from the floor, his hands shaking as he held it.

 _Please,_ _please_ _no!_

His eyes filled with tears. His breathing became ragged as he let go of the fabric with his right hand and reached into his back pocket to finally extract the lace he had so callously ripped from her body.

 _No,_ _no,_ _no_ _…_

 _I_ _knew_ _you_ _fucking_ _wanted_ _it._

He split apart – his chest heaving as he dropped to his knees. He was gripped by a sudden wave of nausea and he doubled over the toilet bowl. He had nothing in his stomach but for the acid that had steadily built up over the course of the evening, eating away at his insides as he was forced to continually augment his abuse of Olivia. She had trusted him and he had failed her. He was supposed to have protected her and, instead, not only had he hurt her in every conceivable way, but he had watched helplessly as Nikolai held her down and forced his gun inside of her. He had stood there and let a man rape her. His stomach and chest continued to spasm, tears streaming down his face as he coughed and gagged and sobbed simultaneously.

And then she was there.

Olivia quietly knelt behind him, one hand resting upon his upper arm as she placed a palm on his shuddering back. She said nothing, silently offering her gentle touch in the hopes that her presence would somehow be able to soothe him. While her demeanor was calm, she was inwardly terrified. In times of crisis she had often witnessed his explosive temper or, alternately, his withdrawal into himself, but she had never, ever seen anything like this. It was as if his soul had shattered in the wake of his grief, ripping him to pieces in front of her. And she knew that it was because of _h_ _e_ _r_ – his anguish over what had happened to her. She had never felt so powerless.

She began to slowly move her hand back and forth over the planes of his back, along the expanse of his shoulders, brushing her fingers along the nape of his neck as she tried to calm him. Eventually the retching motion of his stomach abated and he shifted somewhat so that he was seated on the floor, his hands balling into fists as he struggled unsuccessfully to regain his control. Olivia sat facing his side, desperate to make eye contact, but he had turned his head away from her, unable to meet her gaze. She snaked her left arm across his chest, placing her hand on his head as she pulled him more closely against her. Her right arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him as he continued to sob.

"Forgive me," came his anguished plea.

Her heart broke and her own tears spilled from her eyes. "El, it's not your fault."

"The things I did…what I said to you… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he managed in between jerky breaths.

"El, it's okay. Please don't do this to yourself."

"I forced you…"

"No, El," she shook her head, "You didn't force me."

"God, I-" he let out a strangled sound as his shoulders shook against her. "I let him r-rape you." He struck out angrily with his right fist, connecting sharply with the side of the tub.

"Elliot, stop," she begged, sliding her right hand along his arm to coax it back to his side. "It's not your fault," she repeated, "You couldn't have stopped him."

"I said the wrong thing. I made him snap," he shook his head.

"No, El. Please don't blame yourself," she implored him.

"God, I thought…if he had pulled the trigger…I-"

She sniffed. "He didn't, El. I'm here," she said firmly despite the waver in her voice.

"God, Liv, I'm so sorry…so sorry…" he repeated.

"I know," she whispered, tightening her arms around him. "It's okay…I'm okay…" she murmured.

Gradually his sobs subsided, though she could still feel the tension in his body long after he fell silent.

"Elliot, look at me," she said softly, slowly relaxing her hold on him to bring her hands to her lap.

He swallowed.

"Please?" she breathed.

He heard the vulnerability in her tone and he swiped at the moisture on his face before turning toward her.

When she spoke her voice was barely more than a whisper. "None of this is your fault," she said, placing her palm on his cheek when he dropped his gaze. She waited until he looked up again before continuing. "I don't blame you for anything, so please, _please_ don't blame yourself."

He closed his eyes. He didn't deserve her.

He felt her arm brush against his knee and he opened his eyes to find that she had gathered up her dress and the scraps of lace and was shoving them into the bottom of the trash.

She looked up at him tentatively. "It's over," she said quietly, sadness and fatigue in her eyes.

They both knew that this wasn't the case. It was far from over. Yet in that moment, they each needed to pretend that it was that simple – that they could put it behind them as easily as burying the evidence in the trash.

He held her gaze, their eyes communicating the truth though he responded, "Yeah."

He stood, extending his arms to her as he helped her to her feet. In truth, she no longer needed his support to walk, but she held onto his arm nonetheless. When they reached the door to her bedroom he offered her a sad smile before turning to walk away. He made it two feet before he realized that her hand was still firmly encircling his wrist. He turned back around to face her.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her heart pounding as she tried to think of something – _anything_ – to say to explain her actions, when she was unable to explain them even to herself. She stared at her hand in a panic, trying to instruct it to let go.

He took a step toward her.

Her hand finally complied with her mind, and she released him, unable to hide the tremors in her arm as she hastily brought it back to her side. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, looking down at the ground. "I don't know what I was-"

She fell silent as his hand found hers, his thumb lightly brushing across her skin. He flattened his left palm against her door, slowly pushing it the rest of the way open as he waited for her to make the next move.

She hesitantly lifted her eyes to meet his. He saw the nervousness reflected in them and gave her hand a small squeeze of reassurance.

She took a couple of small steps into her bedroom, tightening her grasp on his fingers as she moved. Only then did he enter, reaching behind himself to close the door.

They crossed the room to her bed and he waited as she crawled underneath the covers, shyly rolling away from him onto her side as she curled her knees slightly into her chest. He spread the covers up the rest of the way, easing himself on top of them as he lay down beside her. He paused for a moment, taking in the tension in her body and her quick, shallow breaths. He swallowed his own nerves, shifting so that he was curled up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. He propped his head up on his arm, trying to study her for any signs that this was not what she wanted. "Is this okay?" he asked throatily.

"Yeah, El," she whispered.

He laid his head back down, trying to get used to the fact that Olivia was lying in his arms. There had been so many times over the course of their partnership that he had longed to be able to hold her. To have been granted permission to do so – after everything he had put her through – was beyond his comprehension. He had come so close to losing her... His arm tightened around her at the thought.

She allowed herself to sink further back into his warmth, extracting her arm from the blankets and placing it on top of his. She closed her eyes, relaxing as she gradually lost herself in the sensation of his body pressed against hers, the subtle movement of his chest, the feel of his breath on her neck, and the comforting weight of his arm.

Elliot gazed toward the windows, the curtains keeping the first light of dawn at bay. He listened to the slow, even sounds of her breathing, his nose nestled in her hair. "Night, Liv," he whispered, clinging to consciousness for as long as possible before he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The last of the investigators emerged from the house, sealing the door and securing the scene. They headed to the remaining police cruiser, starting the engine and pulling away as they began to head down the long, dirt road. They had been thorough, collecting evidence and canvassing the area, yet despite their attention to detail, they had not noticed the shadowy figure of the man who had carefully observed their every move, hidden within the dark depths of the woods.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Note:_

 _For anyone who has ever tried to write one of these, you know it is truly a labor of love and extremely time consuming. I honestly really didn't have a good understanding of this when I started BP, and I remember how much the feedback from reviews and interactions with readers meant to me. It truly helped to keep me going, and got me through some epic moments of self-doubt. I am truly in awe of those of you who are able to sit down and write story after story..._

 _This chapter still addresses tough themes, but not to the same degree as the last three chapters._

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

 _It_ _was_ _dark_ _…_ _cold._ _T_ _he_ _ground_ _was_ _hard_ _underfoot._ _She_ _turned_ _in_ _every_ _direction,_ _but_ _she_ _could_ _see_ _nothing._ _Everything_ _was_ _engulfed_ _in_ _blackness._ _She_ _reached_ _out_ _with_ _her_ _right_ _hand_ _to_ _try_ _to_ _guide_ _herself_ _and_ _it_ _came_ _into_ _contact_ _with_ _a_ _rough_ _wall._ _She_ _tentatively_ _moved_ _forward,_ _continuing_ _to_ _run_ _her_ _hand_ _along_ _the_ _wall_ _while_ _her_ _left_ _searched_ _the_ _air_ _in_ _front_ _of_ _her,_ _the_ _echoes_ _of_ _her_ _footsteps_ _drawing_ _attention_ _to_ _the_ _silence_ _that_ _fell_ _heavily_ _around_ _her._ _The_ _hairs_ _on_ _the_ _back_ _of_ _her_ _neck_ _stood_ _up_ _at_ _the_ _feeling_ _that_ _she_ _was_ _being_ _watched…stalked…although_ _she_ _could_ _see_ _no_ _one._ _She_ _spun_ _around_ _to_ _look_ _behind_ _her,_ _but_ _it_ _was_ _futile_ _–_ _the_ _space_ _behind_ _her_ _was_ _as_ _dark_ _as_ _that_ _in_ _front._ _Sh_ _e_ _started_ _to_ _move_ _more_ _quickly,_ _blindly_ _stumbling_ _forward_ _as_ _her_ _heart_ _pounded_ _in_ _her_ _ears._

 _As_ _she_ _moved,_ _she_ _became_ _aware_ _of_ _a_ _hollow,_ _rhythmic_ _thudding_ _noise_ _behind_ _her,_ _at_ _first_ _indistinguishable_ _from_ _the_ _sound_ _of_ _her_ _own_ _feet_ _on_ _the_ _ground_ _but_ _slowly_ _increasing_ _in_ _volume_ _and_ _pace._

 _Someone_ _was_ _following_ _her._

 _She_ _walked_ _even_ _more_ _quickly,_ _eventually_ _starting_ _to_ _see_ _a_ _dim_ _light_ _in_ _the_ _distance._ _Sh_ _e_ _hurried_ _toward_ _it,_ _desperately_ _seeking_ _a_ _way_ _out._ _The_ _patch_ _of_ _light_ _gradually_ _expanded_ _as_ _she_ _neared_ _it,_ _emanating_ _from_ _beyond_ _an_ _open_ _door_ _not_ _more_ _than_ _twenty_ _feet_ _away._

 _She_ _heard_ _a_ _low_ _chuckle_ _behind_ _her._

 _She_ _whirled_ _around_ _but_ _could_ _still_ _see_ _nothing._ _She_ _rushed_ _through_ _the_ _doorway_ _and_ _her_ _heart_ _stopped,_ _cold_ _fear_ _in_ _her_ _stomach_ _as_ _she_ _found_ _herself_ _in_ _a_ _room_ _with_ _no_ _visible_ _exits_ _except_ _for_ _the_ _way_ _from_ _which_ _she_ _came._ _The_ _source_ _of_ _light_ _was_ _a_ _lone_ _bulb_ _dangling_ _from_ _the_ _ceiling,_ _illuminating_ _the_ _center_ _of_ _the_ _room_ _while_ _the_ _periphery_ _was_ _cast_ _in_ _shadows._ _She_ _let_ _out_ _a_ _small_ _cry_ _of_ _fear,_ _breathing_ _so_ _rapidly_ _that_ _she_ _felt_ _a_ _tingling_ _sensation_ _spread_ _throughout_ _her_ _body._

 _The_ _door_ _slammed_ _shut_ _behind_ _her_ _and_ _she_ _spun_ _around_ _in_ _terror._

" _Well,_ _well,_ _well…_ _What_ _do_ _we_ _have_ _here?_ _"_ _a_ _familiar_ _voice_ _taunted._

" _No_ _…"_ _she_ _whimpered_ _as_ _Harris_ _emerged_ _from_ _the_ _darkness._

 _Tears_ _streamed_ _down_ _her_ _face_ _as_ _he_ _slowly_ _stalked_ _toward_ _her._ _She_ _backed_ _away,_ _shaking_ _her_ _head,_ _searching_ _for_ _any_ _way_ _out._

 _Laughter_ _resounded_ _from_ _all_ _around_ _her._

 _Nikolai_ _._

" _There'_ _s_ _no_ _way_ _out,"_ _his_ _voice_ _jeered,_ _seemingly_ _without_ _a_ _point_ _of_ _origin._

" _It'_ _s_ _time_ _to_ _finish_ _what_ _we_ _started,"_ _Harris_ _snarled._

 _He_ _lashed_ _out_ _abruptly_ _with_ _his_ _arm,_ _causing_ _the_ _light_ _bulb_ _to_ _swing_ _wildly_ _on_ _its_ _cord,_ _the_ _motion_ _of_ _the_ _light_ _lending_ _itself_ _to_ _the_ _appearance_ _that_ _the_ _room_ _was_ _swaying_ _and_ _churning_ _around_ _her._ _Sh_ _e_ _continued_ _to_ _back_ _away,_ _spinning_ _in_ _a_ _circle_ _around_ _herself_ _as_ _she_ _tried_ _to_ _find_ _any_ _place_ _to_ _hide_ _–_ _any_ _means_ _of_ _escape._

 _Suddenly_ _she_ _caught_ _sight_ _of_ _another_ _figure_ _in_ _the_ _corner_ _of_ _the_ _room,_ _coming_ _in_ _and_ _out_ _of_ _view_ _with_ _the_ _rocking_ _motion_ _of_ _the_ _light._

" _Elliot!_ _"_ _she_ _cried_ _out,_ _rushing_ _toward_ _him._ _Sh_ _e_ _clutched_ _onto_ _him_ _tightly._ _"_ _El,_ _please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _let_ _them_ _touch_ _me,_ _"_ _she_ _begged._

 _He_ _said_ _nothing._

 _She_ _looked_ _up_ _at_ _him,_ _searching_ _his_ _face_ _for_ _any_ _signs_ _of_ _recognition_ _or_ _reassurance,_ _but_ _his_ _eyes_ _remained_ _cold,_ _his_ _expression_ _flat._ _"Elliot,"_ _she_ _pleaded_ _in_ _desperation._ _Sh_ _e_ _felt_ _Harris_ _approach,_ _sobbing_ _as_ _he_ _came_ _to_ _stand_ _directly_ _behind_ _her._

 _Trapping_ _her._

" _Elliot,_ _please,_ _please_ _help_ _me,_ _"_ _she_ _cried._

 _Harris_ _trailed_ _his_ _hands_ _down_ _her_ _body,_ _grabbing_ _onto_ _her_ _hips_ _as_ _he_ _ground_ _himself_ _against_ _her._ _Sh_ _e_ _pushed_ _against_ _Elliot'_ _s_ _chest_ _while_ _trying_ _to_ _twist_ _herself_ _free,_ _but_ _Elliot'_ _s_ _hands_ _latched_ _around_ _her_ _wrists,_ _preventing_ _her_ _escape._

" _No,_ _please!"_

 _Harris_ _removed_ _one_ _of_ _his_ _hands_ _and_ _she_ _heard_ _him_ _lower_ _his_ _zipper._

" _Elliot!_ _"_ _she_ _sobbed_ _as_ _Harris_ _'_ _hands_ _tugged_ _harshly_ _at_ _the_ _waistband_ _of_ _her_ _pants._

 _Elliot_ _merely_ _smirked_ _down_ _at_ _her,_ _his_ _cruel_ _smile_ _broadening_ _as_ _he_ _looked_ _over_ _her_ _shoulder_ _at_ _Harris._ _And_ _then_ _he_ _started_ _to_ _laugh_ _–_ _the_ _sound_ _blending_ _in_ _with_ _Nikolai_ _'_ _s_ _laughter_ _which_ _seemed_ _to_ _get_ _louder_ _and_ _louder,_ _drowning_ _out_ _her_ _hysterical_ _cries._

" _Elliot!_ _"_ _she_ _repeated_ _in_ _despair,_ _calling_ _out_ _his_ _name_ _again_ _and_ _again_ _as_ _she_ _wept._

"Liv!" he tried again to rouse her from her nightmare.

"Elliot!" she cried out again, the panic in her voice tearing him apart.

"Liv, I'm here, you're dreaming," he attempted to reassure her, but her only response was an anguished cry as she continued to sob in her sleep. He leaned over her and lightly shook her shoulder as he repeated her name.

She finally opened her eyes, seeing him above her, yet instead of relief in her expression, her eyes widened in fear. She whimpered, quickly scooting herself backward on the bed until she was seated with her back flush against the headboard.

Elliot pushed himself back onto his knees, widening the gap between them as he raised his palms. "I'm not going to hurt you, Liv," he said quietly. "You're safe." he reassured her, his eyes full of concern. "It was a nightmare."

She was still panting and she attempted to catch her breath, residual tears still falling as she darted her eyes from side to side, taking in her surroundings.

"You're home. You're safe," he soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated, his voice cracking.

Olivia balanced her elbows on her knees, resting her forehead on her palms as she squeezed her eyes shut against the vivid images that continued to linger. God, it had felt so real. She took in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly, angrily swiping at the tears on her face. She raked her fingers through her hair, clasping her hands behind her neck as she stared at the tangle of blankets at her feet. She was so tired of feeling out of control.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, sliding her hands apart as she brought her arms to wrap around her shins.

He shook his head at the apology. "You want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

She closed her eyes as another shiver ran down her spine at the recollection of his actions in her dream. "No," she whispered.

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. "You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is…" he hesitated, "Whatever it was that I did to make you afraid of me."

She forced herself to meet his gaze, the regret and compassion in his eyes a reminder of everything that Elliot was and everything that her mind had obliterated from the man in her dream. "I'm not afraid of you, El," she replied.

But she had been. For one brief moment, caught somewhere between the clutches of her nightmare and her waking mind, when she had seen him hovering above her, she _had_ been afraid of him.

He nodded slowly as he considered her response. There was no doubt in his mind that the fear he had seen in her expression had been directed at him. "Maybe not right now," he said carefully.

She immediately looked away. "El, please?" she implored him. "I don't want to talk about it." She cursed the tremble in her voice. God, when had she become so damn weak?

"Okay," he said gently. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't know what to do to make any of this better."

"It was just a dream," she murmured, as much to remind herself of this as to downplay its significance.

" _Just_ _a_ _dream,"_ he thought. Hardly. She had been terrified. God knows he'd given her enough reasons to be frightened of him in actuality, let alone whatever horrors her subconscious had created. As it was, for lack of knowing, his own mind had run rampant with worst-case scenarios.

She was still sitting with her knees tucked into her chest, her eyes downcast. He wanted to be able to reassure her – to tell her that he would never hurt her – but he _had_ hurt her, and so the statement died before it even met his lips.

"Liv, if you want me to take the couch, I'd understand."

Her eyes flew to his. "No," she responded a little too quickly. Her face flushed and she attempted to backtrack. "I mean, if you don't mind staying," she finished, her voice small.

"I don't mind," he replied. He almost wanted to laugh. If she only knew how desperate he was to stay.

"I don't want you to feel oblig-"

"Liv, there's no place I'd rather be." The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them, and he hoped that his admission had not made her feel uncomfortable.

"Okay," came her quiet reply.

Once again Olivia felt self-conscious as she slowly slid herself further down the bed, this time easing herself onto her left side, facing the center of the mattress. She reached for the covers and Elliot helped to draw them over her. He hesitated, unsure of how to situate himself in light of the change in Olivia's position. He opted to stretch out onto his back, tucking his right arm under his head as he tilted it slightly to face her, his left hand resting on his stomach. It seemed to be the safest option – not wanting to crowd her or make her feel uneasy by turning into her completely.

They lay there quietly in the shadows, silently holding one another's gaze. Olivia felt as though she should look away, but as many times as she told herself to close her eyes, she could not bring herself to do so. Beyond the overtly terrifying components of her nightmare, the aspect that had frightened her the most was the icy look in Elliot's eyes. Throughout the ups and downs of their partnership, the one thing that had never changed was their ability to communicate a wealth of information with one another by means of a single glance. Even in anger, she could still see layers of recognition and history in his eyes. At times they tried to filter things – striving to prevent the other from seeing too much, yet, in the end, they only way they were successfully able to do so was to avoid making eye contact to begin with.

There had been times in that room when Elliot had been forced to look at her with derision and detachment, but he had continued to find moments to reconnect with her, carefully hidden from Nikolai's view. She had been able to cling to the feeling of safety those moments afforded her in order to help her endure the fear and the pain she had experienced throughout their captivity. Now, lying beside him in the privacy of her darkened room, she allowed herself to take comfort in the protective understanding in his gaze.

The intimacy of the moment was not lost on either of them. For once, for as long as it lasted, they were allowing themselves to truly see one another.

Olivia eventually broke the spell, frightened that if she lingered much longer she might not be able to prevent herself from wanting more from him than he was able to give. She dropped her gaze to stare at the rise and fall of his chest, the loss of eye contact making her feel that much more vulnerable. She blinked against the moisture that was threatening to re-form. She felt hollow – as if she were grieving the loss of something that had not truly been hers to begin with. They had been undercover. It hadn't been real. A lone tear trailed down her cheek, hidden from view as it was absorbed by her pillow. She thought of the feel of him inside of her, the weight of him as he sheltered her body with his own, and was overcome by the need to be closer to him. She slid herself toward him, stopping when the back of the arm that was tucked into her chest brushed against his side.

After the briefest of pauses, Elliot rolled onto his right side, fully facing her as he brought his left arm around her body. He coaxed her more closely into his warmth, resting his chin on the top of her head. She shifted the hand that rested between them, gently curling her fingers around the fabric of his shirt as if to ensure that he would not leave her. He drew his hand back and forth across her shoulder blades, eventually sliding his fingers through the tendrils of hair along the nape of her neck to cup the back of her head in his palm. He held her, occasionally stroking his thumb along her scalp, once again breathing more easily as he felt her fingers gradually relax their hold on him as she slowly succumbed to slumber.

* * *

He awoke before her, shortly after noon. Olivia had intermittently whimpered and cried out in her sleep, but thankfully such disruptions did not seem to be anywhere near the magnitude of her earlier nightmare. Each time he had murmured words of reassurance and remorse as she slept, running his fingers through her hair as he tried to calm her. He was now lying on his back, Olivia halfway on top of him. The blankets that had once provided a barrier between them were now in a tangled mass at the foot of the bed. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her right leg hooked over his and her arm draped across his chest. His arm was asleep but he remained perfectly still, doing his best not to disturb her though she began to stir nonetheless. She sleepily rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, stretching slightly as her eyes fluttered open. She flushed slightly as she realized where she was, and delicately removed her limbs from their resting places as she rolled off of him and onto her back.

"Mornin'," he offered her as she rubbed her eyes, smiling as she arched into a large stretch and doing his best not to notice the way in which her breasts strained against the thin cotton of her T-shirt in the process.

"What?" she asked, returning his smile as she peered at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Nothing," he replied, his grin broadening.

"Do I have bed-head?" she asked, self-consciously smoothing her hands over her hair.

"The hair's fine, Liv. Just haven't seen you wake up first thing, that's all – other than the occasional hour of crib time here and there. You're cute when you're groggy."

"Watch it, Stabler," she deadpanned. "I might not be so cute if you keep this up."

"Duly noted," he said solemnly.

A little too solemnly… She looked up to see his eyes twinkling down at her and she thwacked him on the arm.

He feigned injury, rubbing his arm as she lifted her head to check the clock. "Okay, so it's the afternoon," he amended. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently, falling serious once more.

"I'll live," she replied with a slight arch of her brow. "Might need to make another exception to my 'no painkiller' policy," she quipped, trying to cling to the light mood they had created for as long as possible.

Elliot moved to go get some for her, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I've got this."

His face fell ever so slightly and he shrugged it off. "Oh…course."

"El, I appreciate it. I do. I just… I need to start taking care of myself."

He nodded, feeling a twinge of disappointment at the thought that she might no longer need him.

Elliot watched as she pushed herself up and slid out of the bed, standing still for a moment as she dealt with the pain the action inevitably caused her before heading into the hallway toward the bathroom. He cast a glance around the room. Two of the qualities he admired most about Olivia were her strength and independence, but having gotten a glimpse of her at her most vulnerable, he selfishly longed to be in the position to continue to take care of her. Her nightmare had been a stark reminder of the fact that he had caused her incredible pain. While she claimed that she did not blame him for his actions, he would never forgive himself. No matter how many times she tried to set his mind at ease, he would never forget the fear in her expression as she looked up at him in the aftermath of her dream. He would never forget the sound of her voice begging him to stop. He drew a hand over his face, standing and walking to look out of the window as he attempted to collect himself.

Deep in thought, he did not hear her approach and startled when he heard her voice from just beyond his shoulder.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, lifting his forearm from where it rested against the wall and running his hand down the back of his head. He offered her a small smile that only seemed to draw more attention to the sadness in his expression.

Her eyes searched his, trying to discern the source of his current struggle.

"You took something?" he asked, changing the subject.

She nodded.

"Good," he replied. He raked his eyes over her face, each of her injuries triggering a memory of every time he had raised his hand to her the night before.

She noticed his focus and dropped her gaze. "El, they're more colorful than anything else. Really," she said softly.

He took a small step toward her, his eyes full of remorse. He slowly lifted his hand, tracing his fingertips lightly over her bruises before gently curving his palm along the contours of her cheek. He belatedly mused that he needed to begin to do a better job at resisting his impulses to touch her. His hand had met her skin before his mind reminded him of the fact that they did not do this. Yet after so many years spent avoiding even the briefest of touches, he was pained by the thought that she would remember him not for his capacity for tenderness, but rather for the force with which he had struck her and held her down.

"Liv, I-"

He was interrupted by the shrill chime of his cell phone ringing in the other room.

Olivia's eyes snapped up to meet his, immediately tense.

He quickly made his way to the kitchen, grabbing his phone from the counter and checking the display: Cragen.

"Stabler," he answered.

" _Elliot,_ _sorry_ _to_ _have_ _to_ _call,"_ his captain's voice responded.

"No problem, Cap," he replied, exchanging a glance with Olivia who had entered the room and had lowered herself to sit on the arm of the couch.

" _Does_ _the_ _name_ _Sergei_ _Petrov_ _mean_ _anything_ _to_ _you?"_

"Sergei Petrov," he repeated for Olivia's benefit. "No. Doesn't sound familiar."

" _Apparently_ _Nikolai_ _had_ _a_ _brother."_

Elliot's mouth ran dry.

" _From_ _the_ _statements_ _we'_ _ve_ _gathered_ _so_ _far,_ _it_ _seems_ _like_ _he'_ _s_ _the_ _second_ _in_ _command._ _As_ _of_ _now,_ _the_ _best_ _we_ _can_ _tell,_ _he'_ _s_ _not_ _among_ _the_ _men_ _we_ _have_ _in_ _custody,_ _and_ _it_ _'_ _s_ _unclear_ _if_ _he'_ _s_ _one_ _of_ _the_ _bodies_ _in_ _the_ _morgue._ _"_

"No public records?"

" _No,_ _"_ Cragen sighed. _"One_ _dead_ _end_ _after_ _another._ _I_ _'_ _m_ _sorr_ _y_ _to_ _make_ _you_ _come_ _in,_ _but_ _I_ _need_ _you_ _both_ _to_ _look_ _through_ _the_ _photographs_ _of_ _the_ _men_ _we'_ _ve_ _accounted_ _for_ _–_ _dead_ _or_ _alive_ _…_ _see_ _if_ _you_ _can_ _tell_ _if_ _anyone_ _is_ _missing._ _"_

"I understand. We'll be there."

He snapped his phone shut and filled Olivia in on the rest of the details.

She stared down at the floor, trying to remember to breathe.

"Liv, he's probably on ice," he tried to reassure her.

"Yeah," she replied, her expression grim.

"I, uh, I should run to my place. Get a change of clothes," he said. "Do you want to come with me? Or do you want me to go and come back?"

"If you don't mind waiting for a sec?" she asked.

"Sure. Take your time," he nodded.

She returned to her bedroom, changing into black pants and a charcoal gray turtleneck sweater which succeeded in concealing most of the bruises along her throat. She had purposefully chosen subdued colors. Her face was colorful enough, she thought wryly. There was no sense in drawing more attention to herself. She pulled on some boots and returned to find Elliot pacing in the living room.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, moving to grab a black pea coat, idly wondering if she would ever get her leather jacket back.

Elliot pulled the NYPD jacket around his shoulders, retrieving his car keys from her counter. They made short work of the stairs, and Olivia was relieved to find that her legs were finally functioning properly. As they opened the front door they were met by overcast skies and an insistent, chilly drizzle. Elliot jogged slightly ahead of her to unlock the passenger side door, holding it open as she quickly ducked inside, pulling her door shut as he climbed in behind the wheel. They made it across town to his place in twenty minutes, and were lucky enough to find street parking a block away. The relative nearness of their apartments was something that caught Olivia by surprise, so accustomed was she to the commute to his house in Queens.

They walked briskly across the intersection, their strides automatically matching one another's out of a shared rhythm that had long been ingrained within them.

"It's the third one on the right," he informed her quietly.

His feelings of failure had increased exponentially as they neared the building. Although he had already confided in Olivia about the status of his marriage and his living situation, somehow having her witness it first hand brought about a renewed sense of shame.

Perhaps sensitive to the source of his reticence, Olivia remained silent, continuing to follow his lead as they ascended the flights of stairs leading up to his apartment.

He hesitated outside of his door, his key hovering a couple of inches above the lock. He cleared his throat, tilting his head slightly over his shoulder to address her while his gaze remained trained on the ground. "It's uh," he brushed his thumb over his brow, "It's nothing much, Liv," he managed.

She spoke softly, assuaging his apprehension with the gentle timbre of her voice. "El, you don't have to justify anything to me."

He nodded, unlocking the door and standing aside to allow her to pass through.

The apartment was small but comfortable, and suited Elliot. In lieu of a couch, a black upholstered futon sat along the far wall in the living room, undoubtedly useful for creating extra sleeping space when his kids came to stay over. A throw rug comprised of earth tones lay beneath a low-set coffee table, flanked by a couple of chairs with nesting ottomans to conserve space but provide more seating if need be. The living room extended into the kitchen, a counter dividing the two spaces. Standing in contrast to the otherwise white walls, the rust color of the brick of the building had intermittently been left exposed, creating a cozy feel. It was crisp but not austere, modern but homey.

He observed Olivia's silent appraisal, relaxing somewhat as a small smile lit up her features.

"I like it," she said warmly, darting her eyes up to meet his.

"Yeah?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah," she nodded, turning away from him as she continued to scan her surroundings.

"Make yourself at home," he said, depositing his jacket and keys on the counter. "I'll just be a minute."

He disappeared through a door at the end of the short hallway that she assumed was the entrance to his bedroom. She stood still for a long while, feeling tentative despite his attempts to put her at ease. There was something about being in Elliot's place, and not Elliot and Kathy's place, that made her feel somewhat timid – as if the rules had suddenly changed halfway through the game and she no longer knew how to play. She ran a hand along the smooth wood of the countertop and cast her gaze around the room. Eventually she slowly wandered over to peer at a couple of picture frames resting on an end table in the corner of the living room. One contained a photograph of Maureen and Kathleen taken at the beach from quite a few years ago, hugging each other tightly and cheesing for the camera. Another was a close-up shot of Eli at approximately six months old, looking up at the camera with wide-eyed wonderment. The one that made her pause and pick up the frame, however, was of Elliot with the twins when they were about five years old. He was dangling them upside down, Lizzie's ankle in one hand and Dickie's in the other, a huge grin on his face. She smiled as she took in their expressions. She could practically hear the twins' laughter.

"Snooping through my things?"

Elliot's voice startled her and she turned around to see him finishing slipping his arms through the sleeves of a blue fleece pullover. She chuckled at his choice of words – the same ones she had uttered as he stood in her room for the first time. She arched an eyebrow, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Well, I _am_ a detective," she echoed, replacing the frame. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and pivoted to face him.

"Sorry for startling you," he said as she approached. "Please don't stop on my account."

She shook her head slightly. "Snooping complete," she replied. "At least for now," she added, a mischievous glint in her eye.

He smiled down at her, the blue of his shirt seeming to intensify the blue of his eyes. Once again she felt the stirrings of butterflies in her stomach, and she wondered whether they would ever re-learn to lie dormant. She looked away, preempting any potential awkwardness should he be able to read her expression.

"You're ready?" she asked quietly, stating the obvious.

"Yeah," he exhaled, his smile fading. The last place he felt like being at the moment was the precinct, and although he had attempted to reassure Olivia about the fate of Nikolai's brother, he had a sinking feeling that the case that they so longed to be able to put behind them was far from over. He prayed that his gut was mistaken.

* * *

They rode to the precinct in silence, bracing themselves for whatever they might be faced with when they arrived. Olivia attracted quite a few stares on the way into the building. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead, pretending she was not aware of the attention as she walked determinedly toward the elevator. For his part, Elliot protectively positioned himself slightly in front of her, glaring at the bystanders who dared cast even the briefest of glances in her direction. The elevator doors slid open and she was relieved to find that it was empty. Elliot was determined to keep it that way, and the individuals in the lobby that had been considering taking a ride up with them thought better of it when they caught sight of the glower on his face.

Olivia visibly relaxed as the doors shut, grateful that she had been afforded a few moments of a reprieve before they reached the squad room.

"I'm sorry, Liv," Elliot said guiltily. He looked down at the NYPD emblem on his jacket, wondering why in the hell he had signed up for a gig that had for all intents and purposes turned him into a glorified batterer.

"It's okay, El. I was expecting this," she said resignedly. "If I had been thinking more clearly earlier, I probably would have spent some time trying to cover some of it up with makeup."

They emerged from the elevator and were taken aback by the bustle they found when they entered the squad room. It appeared as though Cragen had enlisted the help of every hand that he had at his disposal. There were at least twice the usual amount of officers on hand, all of whom were busy with one task or another. It appeared as though most of the visible interview rooms were occupied, and behind almost every desk on the floor they saw detectives speaking with women from the club who had undoubtedly been held against their will. Fin and Munch were nowhere to be seen, most likely off interviewing a suspect or a victim. All of the faces in the room were drawn, having worked around the clock to process the overflow.

Olivia's eyes widened as she took in the display boards set up along the far side of the room. "El," she said under her breath, nudging him with her elbow.

He followed her gaze. Photographs of upwards of fifty women were tacked onto the board to the left, while the board on the right contained at least double that amount of photos of men that had been picked up when they raided the club.

They headed toward their desks, shrugging out of their jackets and draping them over their chairs. Cragen appeared in the doorway of his office, finishing a conversation with one of the officers and beckoning for Elliot and Olivia to approach. They wound their way over through the maze of people and obstacles, following him into his office and shutting the door.

Cragen acknowledged them with a nod, motioning for them to be seated as he perched on the edge of his desk. "Thank you for coming in."

"No problem, Cap," Elliot responded.

"We would have come in sooner if we'd known," Olivia added, gesturing to the activity behind her.

Cragen shook his head. "You're looking at the tail end of it. We have a lot of men in custody. We couldn't hold them all, but everyone has been printed and interviewed so we'll continue to keep them under a microscope. Most of the women have already been placed in emergency shelters, the teens in foster and residential placements. We're just finishing up the interviews now."

"Teens?" Olivia asked, dread in the pit of her stomach. She knew that this had been a possibility, but had tried to put it out of her mind. It had been enough to try to focus on Lara.

Cragen nodded somberly. "Thirteen of the girls we picked up last night were underage."

Elliot clenched his jaw.

"We're doing our best to locate extended family members to try to identify prospective kinship resources, but given the nature of this case we want to make sure ACS has time to evaluate the safety of these homes."

Olivia nodded.

"Any updates on Petrov?" Elliot asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," Cragen responded, his expression tense. He turned to the side, picking up a stack of two thick binders and handing them to Elliot. "Here are copies of all of the photos we've taken of the men we've accounted for. They're on the board as well, but I wanted you to be able to look through these without distractions. We should have an open interview room by now."

"Okay," Elliot responded. "We'll keep you posted."

Elliot and Olivia stood and moved toward the door.

"Also," Cragen's voice stopped them and they turned to face him. "Before you leave I want each of you to sit down and debrief with Huang."

Olivia tensed.

"Cap-" Elliot started to protest.

"It's not optional," Cragen interrupted, lifting his palm and looking between his detectives. "Understood?"

Olivia nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Elliot breathed a sigh through his nose, a scowl firmly planted on his face although he, too, nodded his assent.

They eventually found an empty room, the din from the frenzied activity in the squad room fading into the background as they made their way inside and shut the door. Olivia lowered herself into a chair, resting her elbows on the table as she nervously laced and unlaced the fingers of her clasped hands. Elliot placed the binders on the table and took a seat beside her to make it easier for them to be able to scan the photos at the same time. They sat in silence for a few moments, neither of them making a move to start.

"Do you think Cragen knows?" Olivia asked shakily.

Elliot shifted in his seat, resting his forearms on the table as he leaned forward. He exhaled heavily. "I don't know." He thought back to the night before, attempting to remember any part of Cragen's reaction to his statement that might have indicated skepticism. "I don't think so. It's probably just procedure given a case like this." He sounded confident, but the reality was that he had been so worried about Olivia that he might have been too distracted to notice.

Olivia took several shallow breaths and when she spoke her voice was barely audible. "Fin knows."

Elliot immediately turned his head to study her.

Olivia continued to look at her hands. "I didn't say anything," she clarified, "He just knew."

Elliot nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of his lower lip.

"I…I'm pretty sure he didn't say anything," she added.

 _I_ _'_ _ve_ _got_ _your_ _back._

It wouldn't be the first time that Fin had kept silent on her behalf. They had never spoken about Sealview – not at the time, and not afterward, and despite the fact that they hadn't coordinated statements, she knew that he hadn't said anything about the specifics for the simple reason that Huang and Cragen had never called her on it.

"So we keep things vague," Elliot replied.

Vague. Huang. No problem. Olivia would probably have laughed had it not been for the overwhelming anxiety that was making it difficult for her to breathe.

"Right."

Right.

She felt ill and reached for the first binder out of the need to focus on anything else.

Elliot followed her lead.

They pored over pages and pages of faces of men that, as far as they were concerned, were all guilty, despicable sons of bitches. Some they recognized – the men that had scaled the stage, the rapists in Nikolai's glass cages – but most they did not, merely filing them away as they began to attribute their faces to the dozens of shadowy figures that had been tucked away in various corners of the club. When they opened the second binder, they found the first page to contain photos of the bodies in the morgue: Nikolai, the bodyguard, Olivia's attackers. Olivia's hand trembled as she reached to turn the page, and Elliot took over, silently flipping page after page until they arrived at the end.

A minute went by as they tried to push their emotions aside to try to sort through the blur of jumbled images in their minds. Someone was missing… Someone obvious… Someone…

Recognition dawned upon them simultaneously.

Olivia's wide eyes flew to his. "How did he get out of that house?" she asked, alarm mixing with disbelief. "It's not possible."

"I don't know," Elliot shook his head. "Maybe he's here and we missed him," he said, grasping at straws.

"Elliot," she sighed in frustration.

"I know. I'm sorry," he placated, berating himself for having grossly underestimated the man who now posed a greater threat than either of them could ever have anticipated. "We need to tell Cragen."

They pushed themselves back from the table and quickly returned to Cragen's office. They remained standing, both too tense to sit down.

Elliot cleared his throat. "We know who is missing, and while we can't guarantee that it's Petrov," he exchanged a knowing glance with Olivia, "we'd be hard pressed to come up with a more likely suspect."

As Elliot spoke, the pieces slowly began to come together. Their chaperone – the man that both of them had discounted as a mindless thug – was none other than Nikolai's second in command. He served as a key line of defense for Nikolai, strategically placed to be the first to meet Nikolai's chosen pawns and to report back to him should anything seem out of place.

 _Who_ _I_ _am_ _is_ _not_ _important._

He had been there every step of the way. It all made sense: The conversations with Nikolai out of earshot, the confident indifference with which he had regarded Elliot's attempts at intimidation, the sly amusement in his expression – as though he was part of an inside joke and laughing at their ignorance. It was confidence that stemmed from power.

"He knows us, Cap," Elliot finished. He looked over at Olivia whose arms were now crossed protectively over her chest. Though he did not voice it, he knew that she was well aware of the special interest Petrov had taken in her…the way in which his hands had lingered over her curves. "He knows us as Carl and Tara, but he's smart and he'll figure it out…if he hasn't already."

"He was at the house," Olivia added. "We don't know how he managed to escape, but he was there."

Cragen nodded. "I want you two to sit down with a sketch artist. We'll keep looking for some sort of photo identification, but for now let's work with what we have."

Elliot and Olivia turned around at the same time, only to find Huang standing in the doorway.

Fuck.

"Elliot, Olivia," Huang acknowledged them.

They nodded in response, trepidation etched in their features.

The corners of Huang's mouth curled up in a slight smile.

Elliot sighed – no sense in delaying the inevitable. He looked at Olivia and saw the fear in her eyes that she was trying desperately to hide. He wanted to give her some time to prepare herself.

"Liv, why don't you get started with the sketch artist? I'll go first," he said with an incline of his head toward Huang. He looked over at him for verification and Huang nodded.

"Okay," she replied, moving toward the door.

Huang stepped aside, his eyes scanning her injuries as she quickly slipped by.

Elliot looked between Huang and Cragen. "Let's get this over with," he muttered sullenly.

* * *

They situated themselves in the interview room that Elliot and Olivia had vacated a few moments prior. Elliot plopped himself in a chair, slouching as he drummed his fingers on the table, his left forearm casually resting on his thigh. Every aspect of his body language was a careful study in indifference, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his unease. Huang seated himself at the head of the table, diagonally to Elliot as opposed to directly across from him in the hopes that this would help to lessen Elliot's perception of their encounter as a standoff. He slid the case file he had with him to the side, leaning back in his chair and loosely clasping his hands in his lap.

"Elliot, I appreciate your meeting with me," Huang began, "Though I know that it's not by choice."

Elliot nodded. "So what am I supposed to talk about?" he asked.

"Why don't we start with how you're feeling today?"

"Fine," Elliot responded both defensively and dismissively before he thought better of it, remembering the Kramer case and not wanting to run the risk of getting pulled off duty. "Tired," he added, more truthfully.

Huang nodded. "And Olivia?"

Elliot was taken aback by the shift of focus, having prepared himself for being the center of Huang's line of questioning. "She's…" he trailed off, drawing a hand along his jaw. "Well, you've seen her. She's been better…but she's strong."

"Yes," Huang agreed. "Tell me more about the injuries," he requested after a pause.

Elliot sighed. He knew Huang was referring to the ones visible on her face, but his mind immediately flew to the one she had revealed to him on her breast and to the other bruises covering her frame, hidden beneath her choice of clothing. "The uh, the cut was Nikolai. The others…I honestly can't tell you which are mine and which are his," he finished guiltily.

"Tell me about Nikolai."

Elliot's expression darkened. "Let's just say the profile was accurate," he gritted.

Huang remained silent, indicating that he expected Elliot to continue.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Elliot said with frustration. "He was one sick, twisted, son of a bitch. Everything was just one big, fucking game to him. He wanted to break Olivia like he broke that little girl, and then the bastard took the easy way out," he seethed.

"I went over your statements," Huang said. "It couldn't have been easy to have had to ally yourself with him."

Elliot let out a humorless laugh. "No, it wasn't."

"What was the hardest part for you?"

"God, I don't know," Elliot shrugged, trying to avoid the question.

"If you had to pinpoint something," Huang prodded gently.

Elliot sighed again. He hated this. "I can't…I can't sit here and do this," he said, rubbing his hands over his face. He felt like an animal trapped in a cage. His frustration was mounting by the second and he either wanted to punch something or leave the room.

Huang smiled sympathetically. "No one said that you had to sit," he offered.

Elliot turned his head slightly to look at him out of the corner of his eye, Huang's statement once again unexpected. After a brief hesitation he pushed his chair back and stood, opting to wander over to look out of the window.

Huang said nothing, patiently waiting for Elliot to respond to his original question.

"Hurting Liv," came Elliot's mumbled reply.

Huang let the answer hang in the air for a long while before speaking, cognizant of the fact that the more truthful Elliot's answers became, the more likely he was to shut down if he felt interrogated. "In what way?" Huang coaxed.

Elliot's hands balled into fists, but he answered the question. "Every way."

"But you were Carl and Olivia was Tara," Huang responded by means of explanation. "You had to follow the profile."

Elliot let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah."

"But it didn't feel that way," Huang intuited.

There was another long pause. "No," Elliot grated. He had never been able to make the distinction between their real identities and their undercover profiles. The emotions were running too high, and the boundary between fiction and reality might as well have been nonexistent. It had never been Tara begging him to stop; it had always been Olivia.

"What about for Olivia?" Huang asked softly.

Elliot was silent for such a long time that most people would have repeated the question or moved on. Huang wasn't most people. He waited, observing Elliot's body language – his labored breathing, the tight grip of his hands around the protective bars of the window. He sat with the silence, allowing the only interruptions to be the occasional distant honks of the cars below and the muted sounds of the squad room beyond the door.

Eventually Elliot responded, his throat tight with emotion. "I don't know."

"Have the two of you spoken about any of this?"

Yes. No. Sort of. Did his meltdown the night before constitute a conversation?

"A little. I, uh…I apologized," he said gruffly.

"And what was her response?"

Elliot breathed a sad laugh. "You know Liv," he shook his head. "She forgave me. Said she was okay… that she didn't blame me," he replied.

"And you feel that she was not being truthful," Huang responded, his inflection somewhere between a statement and a question.

Elliot closed his eyes, remembering the fear with which she had regarded him in the immediate aftermath of her nightmare – the expression nearly identical to the way in which she had looked at him at times when they had been trapped in that room.

"No."

Huang's brow furrowed slightly. "Is there a reason in particular that is making you feel this way?"

"No," Elliot responded a bit too quickly. He couldn't divulge anything without drawing attention to the fact that he'd remained with Olivia in her apartment last night. "I just…I just know," he added.

Huang decided not to press the issue at present. "What about you, Elliot? Have you forgiven yourself?"

He clenched his jaw. "Never," he rasped.

"Is there something else, Elliot? Something that you're not telling me?" he asked.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Elliot spun to face him, immediately defensive.

"Did something happen in that room?" Huang replied evenly.

"I thought you said you'd read our statements," Elliot countered, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"I have," he said calmly.

"So you mean besides having to intimidate, beat, and simulate raping my partner?" he retorted acerbically, the lie easily flowing off of his tongue. "Oh, and let's not forget the verbal abuse," he added with a shrug.

Huang remained silent, steadily holding Elliot's gaze. Eventually he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "You both went through something very traumatic that undoubtedly pushed both of you to your limits…perhaps beyond them."

Elliot swallowed.

"Talk to her, Elliot. This isn't something that will go away on its own."

Elliot nodded, trying to cling to his anger but succumbing instead to his grief. He turned back to face the window, his eyes burning.

"Are we done here?" Elliot asked, his voice cracking.

"For now," Huang said gently.

Elliot took a moment to collect himself, turning around to nod at Huang as he started to make his way toward the door.

"Elliot," Huang called as his hand reached the knob. "Holding onto your self-blame won't help either of you to heal."

Elliot said nothing, opening the door and heading off in search of Olivia. He found her a few minutes later, the sketch of Sergei Petrov well underway.

She looked up as he approached, internally crumbling as she saw the vulnerability in his expression. She stood and met him halfway, lowering her voice to a concerned whisper. "You okay?" she asked, the foot of space in between them a painfully wide chasm.

"Yeah," he attempted a smile to set her mind at ease. "How's this going?"

"Almost done," she replied. "El-"

"I'm fine," he murmured looking over her shoulder. He raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck, meeting her gaze once more. "You're up," he said apologetically.

She nodded, drawing her lower lip into her mouth before exhaling resolutely. "Okay. I guess you can take over," she gestured behind her.

He nodded, moving toward her vacant chair as she slowly stepped around him. As she passed she felt the slight brush of his fingers against her palm. The contact had been so brief that had she not been so sensitized to his touch she might not even have registered it. It was clear that no one else had noticed the exchange. After she had moved several paces further, she hazarded a glance over her shoulder and found him looking back at her, concern in his eyes. She turned back around, folding her arms over her chest as she walked the rest of the way to Huang.

"You ready for me?" she asked, poking her head in the door.

"Of course," he smiled warmly, motioning for her to take a seat at the table.

She closed the door behind her, sitting to his right and nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, gesturing to her injuries.

"It honestly looks worse than it feels," she replied self-consciously, bringing her hands up to touch her cheeks. "I'm a little sore but no worse for wear."

"And otherwise?"

"I'm hanging in there," she said softly, dropping her gaze. "I keep thinking about Lara…wishing that I could go back and change something."

He nodded. "That's natural," he replied sympathetically.

"He, uh," she blew out a puff of air as she attempted to keep herself together, "He saw me heading for her…and I just keep replaying it in my head…if I had been faster..." She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table.

"You did everything you could."

She smiled sadly. "I know. I just…she's already suffered so much." She looked down at her hands, remembering the blood that coated her palms. "I've seen a lot of things over the years," she said quietly, "but this… what he put her through…" she trailed off.

"It's unthinkable," he replied.

She fell silent, her expression darkening. When she lifted her head to meet his gaze, fire mixed with the unshed tears in her eyes. "He was laughing," she said with contempt. "I can't get the sound out of my head."

"Tell me more about Nikolai," he requested.

"He was, um," she searched for the right word, "He was very volatile. It was hard to predict when he was going to snap. It got worse as the night went on."

Huang nodded. "Is that how you got this?" he asked, gesturing to the cut on her cheek.

Olivia dropped her gaze, running her hands up and down her upper arms. "Yeah."

Huang sat quietly for a few moments, knowing the direction in which he was trying to guide her but wanting to do so cautiously. "What made him snap that time?"

Olivia's face flushed and she chewed on her lower lip, her eyes still trained on the table. Her heart had started to pound in her chest, her breathing shallow. She didn't want to talk about this.

Huang noticed the change in her breathing. "Olivia?" he prompted softly.

She exhaled shakily. "He made some comment to Elliot about having friends of his that could help to put me in my place." She paused, her hands tightening their grip around her upper arms. "Elliot said that he didn't like to share."

"Nikolai didn't like that," Huang followed.

"No," she said quietly.

"Then what happened?" he asked gently.

She clenched her jaw, attempting to regulate her breathing. "He backhanded me across the face with his gun," she edited.

It wasn't a lie. Not technically.

Huang considered her response, reaching over to the file on the table and pulling out an eight by ten photograph. He hesitated for a moment before slowly sliding it in front of her. "Olivia, is this Nikolai's gun?"

She stared down at the image of the weapon before her. "Yes," she murmured. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of the cold metal as Nikolai trailed it across her skin. "Why are you showing me this?" she asked, her voice cracking.

He spoke softly, regarding her with a mixture of compassion and concern, though she did not open her eyes. "Olivia, traces of fluids were found on the barrel."

She shut her eyes more tightly, but was unable to prevent the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

"Vaginal and seminal fluids," he finished quietly.

Olivia was trembling, her breathing rapid and shallow.

 _It'_ _s_ _amazing,_ _really,_ _how_ _one_ _tiny_ _piece_ _of_ _lead_ _can_ _cause_ _so_ _much_ _damage._

Her heart was racing and she felt as though she could not take in enough air.

Huang took in her appearance and moved his chair so that he was sitting directly beside her, pulling one of her shaking hands in between his own. "Olivia, you're having an anxiety attack," he explained, speaking in a soothing tone of voice. "Try to focus on the sound of my voice…the feel of your hand in mine…"

* * *

Elliot finished working with the sketch artist and made his way over toward the interview room. He told himself that he was just going to take a quick peek through the window to make sure that she was okay. As he drew closer, he caught sight of Huang's position through the glass. He quickened his pace. Huang was too close to her. Something was wrong.

He burst through the door. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded accusingly, glaring at Huang.

"Elliot," Huang replied sharply, halting Elliot's tirade. "Shut the door," he instructed, his tone once again becoming gentle as he turned back around to face Olivia.

Elliot did as he was told, coming to sit across the table from them.

"That's it," Huang told her. "Keep counting your breaths…in…out…"

Elliot looked down at the photograph on the table, his brow furrowing in alarm.

"Okay, can you open your eyes?" Huang encouraged.

Olivia took in another shaky breath, her eyes fluttering open to focus on Elliot.

He offered her a small smile, his eyes brimming with concern.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not sure whether she was apologizing for the panic attack itself or to Elliot now that their secret had been exposed.

Elliot shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for," he emphasized.

She dropped her gaze. "Thank you," she murmured, addressing Huang with a tilt of her head and extricating her hand from his grasp.

He nodded, pivoting in his seat so that he was no longer facing her directly.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and her forehead in her palms, shielding her face from view. "Did they run the DNA?" she asked, her voice small.

Elliot ran a hand along his jaw, the statement confirming his suspicions. He looked uneasily at Huang.

"No," Huang replied catching Elliot's eye. "Unless you feel that Nikolai came into contact with somebody else last night, I don't think that will be necessary."

"No," Olivia responded quietly. "No one else."

She continued to sit with her head in her hands, and Elliot felt as though he was intruding – preventing her from being able to say what was on her mind. "I, uh…I shouldn't have barged in," Elliot stammered. "I'll let you two talk." He pushed his chair back from the table.

She lifted her head. "El, no. You don't have to go," she said earnestly.

"Liv, you should be able to speak freely," he replied guiltily, unable to look her in the eye.

Huang observed the exchange, but made no move to intervene.

"And you think I can't do that with you here?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head slightly. "I don't." He stood, swiftly moving toward the door.

"El-" she protested, but he was already out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. She sighed in frustration, raking her fingers through her hair.

Huang sat quietly beside her, giving her time.

Eventually she spoke, wearily leaning back in her chair. "He blames himself," she said.

"But you don't blame him."

She immediately snapped her head around to face him, taken aback by the hint of a question in his tone. "No," she said emphatically. "Of course not." She took a deep breath and exhaled, remembering the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place. "As soon as we realized that we were locked in from the outside…" she shook her head. "We both knew that there was only one way that we were getting out," she finished quietly.

Huang nodded. "And your statements?"

She sighed again. "Elliot said what I asked him to," she admitted. "It was my decision."

"Why?" he asked gently.

She felt the lump re-forming in her throat, but she forced herself to ignore it. "I was afraid that…" she hesitated, dropping her gaze.

He waited for her.

"I was afraid that you would split us up," she continued, not bothering to conceal the fact that she knew full well that their fate rested with him and not Cragen.

"Why do you think that frightens you so much?"

She chewed on the inside of her cheeks, once again painfully aware of the hollow feeling that threatened to consume her. She cycled through the responses that she could give him, some of which would guarantee the end of their partnership before she could even finish her sentence. She exhaled resignedly, assuming it was too late to salvage things anyway at this point.

"It's all that I have," she murmured.

She'd let Huang do with that what he would. God knows he was more than adept at reading between the lines.

The fact that Huang remained silent leant itself to the impression that the final nail had already been hammered into the coffin. She needed to walk away – to leave the room before he could voice the words.

She cleared her throat. "Listen," she said, her voice wavering. "I-I know that we're not done here, but…I don't think I can take anymore today." She tentatively darted her eyes up to meet his.

He was regarding her with kindness and understanding. "Okay," he responded. "Olivia, I want you to take some time off," he continued. "I'm not saying that you aren't capable of doing your job," he clarified when she furrowed her brow. "I'm telling you that you need to take some time to heal…to rest."

She nodded, looking down at her hands.

"And Olivia," he said softly, waiting for her to look up once more. "I'm not going to be making any other recommendations…not right now."

* * *

It had taken her exactly two minutes to find him. When he wasn't pummeling the crap out of his locker or the bag in the gym, she'd headed straight for the roof. It was the only place that was guaranteed to afford him some solitude. The drizzle had stopped but the wind was blustery and Olivia wished that she'd thought to grab her jacket. Elliot was standing with his hands in the pockets of his fleece and his feet planted a shoulder width apart, seemingly impervious to the cold. She approached him quietly, opting to stand a few paces behind him until he was ready to acknowledge her.

"Hey," he said hoarsely, turning his head slightly over his shoulder. "You're done?"

"For now," she responded taking a couple of steps toward him. "He wants me to take some time."

He nodded. "He say anything?" he asked.

 _Is_ _he_ _splitting_ _us_ _up?_

She swallowed. "Not yet."

He finally turned around to face her, his eyes reddened, and not from the wind.

"You didn't have to leave, El," she repeated.

She was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, gusts of wind intermittently tossing stray tendrils of hair over her eyes. _"_ _Stubborn,_ _"_ he thought affectionately.

"Are you okay?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'm fine."

Stubborn.

He took a step toward her. "Liv-"

"I _am_. I just… He caught me off guard."

"Yeah." Elliot thought back to his own conversation with him. Huang had already known, but had said nothing. Elliot understood now that Huang's words had been offered with this tacit knowledge. As much as he hated to admit it, he respected Huang for having waited to meet with Olivia before confronting them with the truth. It was only fair. It had happened to her. A cloud passed over his features as the recollection claimed him once more.

"El?" she called softly.

His eyes refocused.

"Where did you go?" she whispered. She shivered as another gust of wind whipped around her.

"Sorry," he replied, bringing his hands up to run along her arms.

Shit. He was doing it again – touching her. The gesture had been automatic.

"It's freezing up here, Liv. Let's go back."

She nodded and his hands fell away. He shoved them back in his pockets, walking behind her as they crossed the roof and headed down the stairs.

"You ready to leave?" he asked as they reached the squad room.

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm just going to call the hospital to check on Lara."

"I'll, uh… I'll go check in with Cragen," Elliot responded somewhat uneasily.

She looked nervously between him and Cragen's office. "Okay," she breathed.

Elliot slowly approached the office, his heart in his throat as he found Huang seated to the right of Cragen's desk. He forced himself to look Cragen in the eye. "Sorry to interrupt, Cap," he began, his voice low, "I wanted to see if you needed anything else today."

Cragen took in Elliot's weary expression, the remorse and anxiety in his eyes. Now was not the time to reprimand him for giving a false statement. He shook his head slightly. "We're good here," he said evenly, his eyes stern but accepting.

Elliot nodded, turning away and returning to Olivia.

"Thank you, I appreciate the update," she said, hanging up the phone. She rested her elbows on her desk and looked up at him despondently. "No change."

He lowered himself into his chair. "We have to give her time," he replied softly, holding her gaze.

"Yeah," she nodded, running a hand through her hair. "I…I think I could use some air," she said. "I'll walk home."

Elliot looked at her as though she'd completely lost her mind. "No," he said unequivocally.

"El-"

"If you think I'm letting you roam the streets while there's some psycho on the loose-"

Her eyes narrowed. "I can handle myself. We don't even know that he's planning anything."

"That's bullshit."

"It's broad daylight," she countered.

He sighed, looking down at his desk and falling uncharacteristically silent. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with fatigue. "Liv, I know that you think I'm being unreasonable." He breathed a defeated laugh through his nose. "I probably am. I just…this isn't about you being able to take care of yourself." He ran a hand along his jaw. He hesitated, not knowing what to say that wouldn't come across as either pathetic or patronizing. _He_ needed this.

She said nothing, standing and slipping her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he waited for her to walk away.

"Walk me home, Stabler?" she asked quietly.

He looked up to see her standing by the side of his desk, her lips quirking into a slight smile.

He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I said I needed some air. You're not getting the easy way out," she teased.

He chuckled. "You implying that I'm lazy, Benson?"

"Never," she grinned, spinning on her heel and walking away.

He stood, grabbing his jacket and following behind her. He caught up to her at the elevator and she cast him a sideways glance, her eyes twinkling up at him. The doors slid open and they stepped inside, leaning their backs against opposite walls as Elliot reached over to press the button. He watched her from across the way, a hint of a smile on his lips though his eyes fell serious once more. "Thank you," he said.

Olivia nodded, holding his gaze. "We don't actually have to walk, El," she said softly. "You can drive me."

" _You_ feeling lazy, Benson?" his inflection continued their banter, though his tone was gentle.

"I don't want to make you go out of your way."

"I wouldn't mind some air, myself," he replied as the doors slid open.

"You're sure?" she asked, pushing off of the wall.

"I'm sure," he replied, placing a hand on the small of her back as they moved through the lobby. "We gonna do this properly?" he asked as they emerged from the building.

She looked at him quizzically, smiling when she caught sight of his crooked elbow. "Okay," she said, slipping her arm through his.

They walked in silence, each of them taking comfort in the presence of the other. It didn't change anything; it didn't erase the past, but it somehow made the wounds more bearable knowing that they were with the one person that truly understood.

The late afternoon sky was already darkening – an indication that winter was well on its way. Olivia tried to memorize the feel of him beside her, painfully aware of her inability to lie to herself any longer about the extent of her feelings for him. It wasn't that she hadn't always known, but prior to the night before she had almost been able to convince herself that she had successfully learned to suppress them. She had, of course, noticed the change in the way Elliot was treating her – gently, more attentively – but she knew the immensity of his guilt and figured that he was doing everything in his power to atone for his actions. She would be foolish to attribute the change to anything else; it would only lead to heartbreak.

They reached her building and she turned to him at the foot of her steps. She would not allow him to come upstairs because she knew that she would not have the strength to make him leave. As much as she was tempted to lean on him, to accept his support as long as it was offered to her, she knew that, ultimately, it would only make it harder to revert back to the way things were.

"Thanks," she said, letting go of his arm and rocking back on her heels.

"You're welcome," he replied, though she had really done him the favor, and not the other way around.

"You want me to call you a cab?" she asked.

"Nah," he shook his head. "I'll walk." He fished into his pocket for his keys, working hers off the ring. "Here," he said, extending it to her with an upturned palm. He felt a pang of sadness at the gesture. It was silly, he told himself. She had yet to retrieve hers from CSU, and she obviously needed it back.

"Oh…right," she murmured, staring at the piece of metal. "I keep forgetting." She reached over to take it from him, her breath hitching as his fingers closed around hers, holding her still. She closed her eyes.

"Liv, you call me," he quietly instructed. "You call me anytime – day or night – and I'll be here."

She nodded, refocusing on their hands because she could not bring herself to meet his gaze.

He released her after a pause and she took the key from him, turning away from him to walk up her steps. He watched as she disappeared behind the front door, the sound as it shut containing an air of finality that made it all the more difficult for him to walk away.

Olivia slowly trudged up the stairs, the sense of loss immediate and overwhelming. She told herself that this was the way it needed to be – for her to make the transition from dependence to independence with one swift action, as if ripping off a band-aid. She would be fine. It hurt like hell, but she would be fine.

She rounded the last corner, making her way up the final flight of stairs and feeling incredibly drained. She would sleep, she decided. She would put on a worn pair of sweatpants, pull the covers up under her chin and try to shut out the rest.

She reached the landing and crossed the hall to her door.

Her heart stopped.

There, in the center of the wood, a switchblade had been stabbed through a piece of paper containing a single word written in blood:

 _Soon_.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Note:_

 _I remember that this chapter and the next chapter were posted in quick succession. I almost made them one big chapter, but this came to a natural stopping point, and I decided to go with the pause. Please know that despite the lighter tone toward the end of the chapter, I'm not avoiding addressing the other deeper issues in Elliot and Olivia's healing process and aftermath of all this trauma. (Chapter 12 delves into more of that)._

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

She spun around and flattened her back against the wall, instantly hyper-alert. Her hand immediately flew to her hip, her heart racing as she remembered that her off duty weapon was in her apartment. Her eyes darted around to scan the hallway, the stairs, searching for any signs of movement – any shape or shadow that seemed out of place. She strained her ears but all that she could hear was the sound of her own rapid breathing.

She reached a trembling hand into her pocket to pull out her cell phone. She flipped it open, not once dropping her gaze as her fingers felt along the keypad.

Two.

Speed dial.

She held down the button.

She waited to lift it to her ear, not wanting to run the risk of the ring tone drowning out the sound of a footstep – any indication that she was not alone.

" _Liv?_ _"_ Elliot's faint voice reached her ears. _"_ _Liv?_ _"_ she heard again, slightly louder.

She raised her hand. "Elliot," she whispered.

One word.

She lowered the phone.

" _I_ _'_ _ll_ _be_ _right_ _there,"_ came his distant reply.

She counted the seconds. He was close – a few blocks away at most. He'd be there.

She stared at the switchblade, wishing that she could pry it from the door and use it to defend herself – anything rather than standing there unarmed, waiting for her attacker or protector, whoever came first.

She flashed back to the night before, remembering their first encounter with the man they now knew to be Petrov. He had approached her, crowding her, looking her up and down with a lascivious sneer. She had felt revulsion, unease, but not fear – not with Elliot staring him down, his arm possessively wrapped around her. Yet Petrov was not meant to warrant concern, he was intended to blend into the background – just another pawn in Nikolai's warped game.

If only they had seen through the charade. If only they had known just how dangerous he would prove to be.

If only.

She remembered the feel of his hands as they lingered over her curves, the stench of sweat and cigarettes that radiated off of him as he invaded her space.

Now, in the hallway, near paralyzed with fear, she began to detect the faint traces of an odor that was all too familiar. The scent was seeping into her pores, contaminating her air, threatening to choke her where she stood. She couldn't be sure whether her mind was playing tricks on her or whether it was actually there, only that nothing had ever felt more real.

She jumped at the sound of the door bursting open below her, followed by footsteps…heavy, decisive footsteps intermittently coming to a dead stop before resuming again.

Elliot.

She would recognize the pace anywhere. She tried to focus on the image of him climbing the stairs, pausing as he carefully scanned the landing and flight above him before continuing his ascent.

Eventually he came into view, gun drawn, expression tense. Olivia locked eyes with him but remained frozen against the wall, part of her still waiting for Petrov to suddenly emerge from behind one of the closed doors that stood between them. Elliot shifted his gaze to the switchblade, his expression hardening as he took in the warning message. He looked back at Olivia, gesturing to the stairs with an incline of his head as he continued to approach her. She nodded, falling into step behind him as he cautiously began to climb the next flight. She had followed his train of thought: with no signs of forced entry downstairs, there was a distinct possibility that Petrov had entered the building from the rooftop.

"Stay close," he breathed over his shoulder.

Olivia nodded, positioning herself between Elliot and the wall as they moved. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and once again she longed for a weapon of her own. It was no longer the fear for her own safety that concerned her, but rather the fact that she felt unequipped to be able to effectively protect Elliot.

He raised his arms, aiming the gun higher as they rounded the next corner, trying to discern any hint of movement from the floor above, but saw nothing. He continued to climb, Olivia matching his movements so that every step sounded as though it were one person and not two, minimizing the potential of their own footsteps masking someone else's.

After what seemed like ages, they finally reached the top floor and headed toward the final flight of stairs leading to the roof. The light fixture in the hallway was old and flickering, intermittently illuminating their path or leaving them in darkness; the staircase before them had no light source at all. Halfway down the hallway, Elliot's arm shot out to halt her movements though she had already frozen of her own accord: there was a sound…a hollow, thudding noise emanating from the staircase and echoing down the hall. It wasn't constant, but it was there.

Elliot returned his hand to the gun, the muscles in his arms rigid as he began to move toward the stairs, Olivia's breaths hot on his neck as she followed closely behind him. At the base of the staircase they determined the source of the noise: the door to the roof was ajar and banging against the frame, louder or softer depending on the gusts of wind that controlled it. They continued to climb, slowing as they neared the exit. The lock was broken but they were barely able to make out the damage in the shadows. Elliot set his jaw and put his shoulder against the door, readying himself to push it open but Olivia stopped him with a firm grip on his arm. He looked down at her silhouette, wishing that he could see her expression.

"El-" she whispered tensely, cutting herself off. _B_ _e_ _careful_. God that sounded patronizing, even inside of her head. Of course he would be. He always was.

"I will," he responded.

She nodded, releasing his arm.

He slowly leaned into the door, nudging it open a sliver and peering through the gap. He continued to push it open, using it as a shield as he ducked his head around to get a glimpse of the rooftop. When no shots were fired, he opened it fully, cautiously moving forward as he continued to scan the area. The sky had now transformed into a deep gray-black, the heavy cloud cover causing what might have otherwise been twilight to quickly approach nightfall. Both Elliot and Olivia struggled to make out shapes through the darkness, the gusting winds and the sounds of the city obscuring any slight noises that might have revealed the presence of the intruder they sought. They made their way further onto the roof, darting between concrete structures and ventilation systems along the way in attempts to afford themselves some coverage.

Together they carefully inspected the entire expanse of the rooftop, but there was no sign of Petrov. They studied the network of buildings, the east wall of Olivia's apartment close enough to the neighboring building that Petrov could have feasibly made it onto the adjacent roof, though it was more likely that he had been able to use the fire escape on the west side that was relatively out of sight – the dumpsters in the alleyway providing somewhat of a visual barrier between the bottom of the metal structure and the pedestrians on the sidewalk below.

"I'll call CSU," Olivia said once they were sufficiently convinced that the threat of danger had passed for the time being.

Elliot nodded, his eyes still narrowed as he continued to scan their environment. In his gut he knew that Petrov was long gone, but he would be damned if he would let something happen to Olivia by becoming complacent. He ushered her toward the entrance as she spoke into her cell phone, pausing to allow her to finish once they reached the door. He took in her taut features and the flat, detached manner in which she was reporting the situation to the person on the other line and knew that she was hanging on by a thread.

She snapped her phone closed. "They're on their way," she informed him, staring at his chest rather than his eyes, every muscle in her body tense.

He nodded, making no move to open the door. "Liv-"

"We, um…we should call Cragen," she said hastily, not allowing him to finish his sentence and still not meeting his gaze. She flipped open her phone once again, her hand trembling as she began to use her thumb to dial the number.

Elliot said nothing but reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, blocking the screen and preventing her from finishing.

She closed her eyes, breathing a sigh through her nose as she leaned her head back against the wall. After a few moments she reopened her eyes, once again opting to focus on a random spot on his chest rather than his eyes. "This never fucking ends, does it?" she said dully.

"No," he commiserated.

She allowed him to take the cell phone from her, continuing to lean against the wall as he relayed the information to Cragen, fury and exhaustion dueling inside of her. She wondered if part of Elliot was finally rubbing off on her after all of these years. She had never felt a desire to punch something – anything – more than she did right now. She clenched her jaw, her fists balled at her sides and her breathing controlled but shallow.

Elliot hung up the phone and quietly studied her. He knew that look. He'd seen it in his own reflection more times that he could count. He cleared his throat. "If you're gonna pick something, pick me, not the concrete," he said, extending his arm to offer her the phone.

She took it from him, slipping it back into her coat pocket. "I'm sorry?" she asked with a mixture of confusion and irritation, finally looking him in the eye.

"Trust me, you don't want to hit this wall," he replied, the slightest knowing smile crossing his lips. "I've got the scars to prove it." He flexed and curled the fingers of his right hand. "So, like I said, if not the concrete, that leaves me."

She smiled despite herself. She was chock-full of adrenaline, frustration, and fatigue, two seconds away from snapping, and he was cracking a joke. "God, don't tempt me," she chuckled, her smile slowly fading as reality set in once more.

"I can take it," he said quietly, his eyes full of concern.

She dropped her gaze, silence falling around them. "I'm so tired, El," she murmured after a pause, running a hand through her hair.

"I know."

She sighed resolutely, raising her head. "We should go." She tucked her hand into her sleeve, using it to ease open the door through the gap without contaminating potential prints on the handle. Elliot opened it the rest of the way with his elbow, following her down the stairs.

They waited on the front steps for CSU to arrive, and before long there were a swarm of techs going over the building with a fine-toothed comb. Olivia was relieved when she was finally able to gain access to her apartment, and more relieved to find that it did not appear that anything had been disturbed within it. Regardless, she stood aside as yet more techs filed in to check the interior.

She sighed. So much for her initial plan of crawling into bed in search of some peace and quiet.

"Liv."

She turned to find Elliot who had returned from leading a group of investigators up to the roof.

"Hey."

"Pack a bag," he instructed. "You're not staying here."

"El," she protested, "He's not about to come back here tonight," she said gesturing to the mob of people in their midst.

"You're seriously going to try to fight me on this?"

Her eyes narrowed at his choice of words. "I'm not going to _try_ to do anything. I'm telling you I'm not going to hole up in the crib and let some perp use scare tactics to keep me out of my own home."

"You're not going to the crib. You're staying with me," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"You heard me," he said, taking a step toward her.

Her palms were sweaty. "El, I don't, um…I don't think that's such a good idea," she said, shaking her head.

"Why not?" he asked calmly, seemingly oblivious to all of the reasons that were racing through her mind.

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to figure out a safe reply to give him. "I just…I just mean that we don't know how long it's going to take to find this guy. Not to mention that in light of…" she hesitated, lowering her voice. "In light of…everything, I hardly think that's going to fly with Cragen." She finished the statement hurriedly, struggling to hold his gaze and instead looking back and forth between him and the techs dusting her windows for prints.

"I already cleared it with Cragen."

Her eyes widened even more. "What?"

"If Petrov was able to look you up, he most likely looked me up. My permanent address is still listed as Queens – the bills, the mortgage, everything gets sent there."

Her heart stopped. "Elliot," she said in alarm. "Kathy and the kids-"

"They're okay," he reassured her. "I just called to check in. She had them at her mother's this weekend and I told her to stay put for a while."

Olivia nodded.

"There is still a bit of a paper trail," he amended. "The new lease, the utilities…but it's relatively recent so the hope is that he hasn't figured that out yet."

"And if he has?"

Elliot shrugged. "Well, then we've already got ourselves a damn good protective detail."

Olivia sighed.

"Liv-"

"Okay," she conceded. "Give me a minute."

* * *

An hour later she found herself standing outside of his apartment for the second time that day. Thankfully Petrov had not left one of his love notes on Elliot's door, though the absence of such a message did not stop Elliot from locking up and putting the chain on as soon as they entered. He had insisted on carrying her bag, which he deposited on the floor by the entrance, moving to take off his jacket.

Olivia stood halfway between the living room and the kitchen, once again feeling timid and somewhat self-conscious at the thought of being alone with Elliot in a place that was solely his. She kept her back toward him, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to calm herself down. She wondered how it was possible that she could suddenly feel quite this level of nervousness beside someone with whom she had spent the better part of a decade.

"Can I take your coat?" he asked from just behind her.

She jumped slightly, not having heard his approach. "Oh, um, thanks," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. She undid the buttons, shivering when he hooked his fingers around the collar, his hands brushing against her as she slipped her arms from the sleeves.

He took it from her, moving to hang it on a hook by the door. "Sorry for startling you."

"No, I'm sorry." She shook her head, folding her arms over her chest as she turned to face him. "I think I'm just still on edge from earlier."

"Yeah," he replied, taking a few steps toward her. He had been scared to death when he heard her voice on the phone, and he had yet to be able to shake the thought that something far worse could have happened to her. It had been hard enough for him to bring himself to walk away from her that afternoon, and while he would not have wished any part of this situation on either of them, he found himself breathing slightly easier now that she would be remaining safely at his side.

For her part, Olivia wondered whether she was breathing at all. Elliot seemed completely calm, yet no matter how many times she told herself to relax, her tension had yet to dissipate.

"You want a beer?" he asked, heading into the kitchen.

Yes. She most definitely wanted a beer.

"Sure, thanks," she replied, leaning forward to rest against the island counter that divided the space.

She watched as he bent over to retrieve a couple of bottles from the fridge. She caught herself looking at his ass and quickly dropped her gaze to focus to the countertop, tracing the grain in the wood with her fingertips. Her nervousness and fatigue were adding to a long list of things over which she felt she had no control: Lara, Petrov, Huang, herself. The dull, persistent ache in her head and body seemed to have intensified over the past couple of hours, which only seemed to emphasize the feeling that she was falling apart in every sense of the phrase. She felt her frustration starting to give way to sadness again, and she fought to suppress it.

Elliot had removed the caps from the bottles and was quietly watching her, his back against the counter by the stove. Her fingers continued to repetitively trace lines in the counter but he knew that she was no longer seeing the wood. Her head was tilted forward, locks of hair slipping in front of her face and partially concealing it from view, but he saw the tension in her jaw and could not remember the last time he had seen her blink. His chest constricted; she looked so vulnerable. He felt completely powerless.

He approached her tentatively. He did not want to startle her again. When he reached the opposite side of the counter, he paused, gently setting her beer on the surface and slowly sliding it in front of her.

She blinked as it came into view, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears and straightening slightly as she reached over to take it from him. "Thanks," she said, her voice husky, never removing her gaze from the bottle.

He placed his own beer on the counter, leaning forward on his forearms and bowing his head slightly to try to entice her to meet his gaze.

Olivia lifted the bottle to her lips, taking several large swallows before setting it back down. She stared at the blue of his pullover; it was safer than the blue of his eyes. She hoped that the alcohol would work quickly on her empty stomach. She longed for her thoughts to become fuzzy – less intrusive, however temporarily.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly.

She pulled in a slow breath and exhaled quietly through parted lips. "No," she replied, picking at the corner of the label on her bottle. "I think that's the problem." She finally darted her eyes up to meet his, offering him a sad smile.

Elliot nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. He took a sip of his beer, straightening as he rolled his shoulders to try to work out some of his own tension. "Well, let me ask you this," he said, redirecting the conversation. "If I hadn't dragged you out of your apartment tonight, what were you planning on doing?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You didn't 'drag' me, El. I think I was fairly cooperative."

He acted as though he was mulling over her response. "I suppose you weren't the most difficult that you've ever been," he said with a glint in his eye, raising his beer to his lips.

"Gee, thanks," she replied flatly.

"You still haven't answered my question."

She nodded, finishing another gulp of the amber liquid. "Honestly? I was going to pull on some sweats and try to sleep…though after the, uh, 'welcome home' gift, I figured I'd probably keep a gun under my pillow." She cleared her throat. "How's that for coping?" she finished wryly.

Elliot breathed a laugh through his nose. "Sounds fine to me."

"You?"

He said nothing but raised the beer bottle in the air, waggling it from side to side, a self-deprecating smile on his lips.

She grinned in earnest and Elliot thought that it was the best sight in the world.

She raised her bottle. "Cheers," she said, amusement in her eyes.

He reached over to clink his bottle against hers. "Plenty more where this came from," he added after their simultaneous swallows.

"Good to know." She was beginning to feel more relaxed and was not sure how much to attribute to the beer and how much to attribute to Elliot's attempts to put her at ease.

"You hungry?"

She wrinkled up her nose. "I don't think so."

He gave her a stern look.

"El, why do you even ask when you're planning on force-feeding me anyway?" There was irritation in her tone though her eyes conveyed that she was only teasing.

He shrugged. "Force of habit. Plus you know you always are once there's a plate in front of you."

"Maybe I'm just being polite."

His eyes widened in faux surprise. "You?"

"Watch it, Stabler," she glared.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, change into those sweats of yours, and I'll try to scrounge up something for us to eat."

"Okay," she agreed. "Do you, um…do you mind if I hop in the shower?" She felt awkward asking the question, but after her encounter with Huang and the events of the evening, she longed to be able to try to ease away some of the tension under the hot spray.

"Of course not." He moved to get her bag and gestured for her to follow him down the hallway. He flicked on the bathroom light, putting the bag inside and returning to the hall to open the closet. "Here," he said, handing her some towels.

"Thanks." She took them from him, hugging them to her chest.

He continued to rummage through the closet. "Do you need shampoo or anything?" he asked lifting up a bottle.

"Pantene Beautiful Lengths?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

His eyes narrowed. "It's Lizzie's," he clarified with annoyance.

"Sure it is," she replied innocently.

"Do you want it or not?" he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," she appeased. "Yes, thank you." There had been so much chaos in her apartment when she was gathering her things that she hadn't thought to bring her own.

He handed it to her rather unceremoniously. "You're welcome," he gritted.

"See, now I bet you're wishing you'd dropped me at the crib instead," she teased.

His eyes softened, dropping the pretense of anger. "Never," he replied, raising his hand to gently squeeze her shoulder.

The dynamic had suddenly shifted, and Olivia's breathing quickened as the warmth of his palm permeated the thin cashmere of her sweater. She dropped her gaze, Elliot's hand falling away as he brushed his thumb across his lower lip.

"You, uh, you just let me know if you need anything," he murmured.

She looked up at him somewhat shyly. "Thanks for this," she said, gesturing to the items in her arms with a slight incline of her head.

"Sure." He smiled, turning to return to the kitchen as she entered the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her, depositing the items on the counter and turning to sift through her bag to pull out a change of clothes. When she straightened, she took a moment to study her reflection. The bruising was still extremely evident, but the swelling had gone down considerably. She sighed, impatient for the outward signs of trauma to fade and knowing that it would be days before her injuries would become any less conspicuous. She purposefully did not look in the mirror as she undressed, pretending that she didn't notice the bruises on her knees and thighs as she stepped out of her pants – as if it would somehow lessen the severity of what she had undergone if she could convince herself that the extent of the damage was limited to her face. What she could not ignore, however, was the sharp pain in her breast that returned with a vengeance when she pulled off her sweater and unclasped her bra. She stood still for a moment, setting her jaw as she waited for it to abate. She exhaled slowly and lowered herself to sit on the side of the tub, running the water and holding her hand beneath the stream as she waited for it to warm. She tried to focus on the feel of the water on her hand – anything to distract herself from the lingering discomfort and from the conflicting thoughts running rampant through her mind.

If she were being honest with herself, she did feel better being at Elliot's place for the night. The fact that Petrov had been able to track her down as quickly as he had was unnerving to say the least, and while she didn't anticipate that he would have run the risk of returning right away, " _Soon_ " wasn't exactly conducive to a good night's sleep. If Nikolai was any indication of what they might expect from Petrov…a chill ran down her spine. She wasn't sure that she would be able to get any sleep even with Elliot close by.

She sighed, knowing full well that this was not merely due to the threat of danger looming overhead. Being around Elliot was simultaneously the most comforting and the most excruciating feeling in the world. He had the ability to make her feel safer than anyone, and as many times as his tendency toward over-protectiveness had caused friction between them in the past, a part of her always found reassurance in the knowledge that he cared. Yet as much as his presence had the ability to soothe her, she was now acutely aware of the fact that this alone was no longer enough. His proximity only served as a constant reminder that everything she so desperately wanted remained out of reach, and the nagging feeling of longing was almost more than she could bear.

She chastised herself for letting her mind wander again and stood, tugging on the lever to switch the stream of water from the tub to the shower. A smile flickered across her features as she reached for the bottle of shampoo. She shook her head. This entire situation was so surreal. Three days ago, Elliot had pulled the rug out from underneath her when he told her that he was single. Forty-eight hours later they had blown past every single boundary imaginable. Now she was standing in the middle of his bathroom, in an apartment she had only just discovered existed, while he made dinner in the next room. Any chance of a return to some semblance of normalcy had evaporated as soon as she had set foot into this façade of domesticity. She told herself that she needed to remember that it was just that: an illusion, yet she had a sinking feeling that this would be easier said than done.

* * *

Elliot was paying an almost comical amount of attention to every minute detail of the food preparation process, which, in this case, was limited: grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Nevertheless he diligently stood over the stove, continuously stirring the soup that in no way required the action. Anything to take his mind off of the fact that Olivia was in the shower – in _his_ shower. He finished off the rest of his beer in three large gulps, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his brow with his sleeve and placing the bottle by the sink. He yanked off his pullover, tossing it to the side. He was plenty warm.

He needed to get a grip. Though Olivia had tried hard to mask her anxiety, he knew her too well and had immediately recognized her unease. No matter how much she said she trusted him, he knew that it could not have been easy for her to agree to come stay with him after everything he had put her through. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her feel more uncomfortable. She was vulnerable, and he was the asshole picturing her naked. He rubbed his hands over his face, cursing himself for even allowing the thoughts to enter his mind. He opened the fridge and grabbed another beer.

He had finished half of it and was in the process of flipping one of the sandwiches to lightly brown the other side when he heard Olivia emerge from the bathroom, her socked feet padding into the kitchen.

"Hey," he said, turning his head over his shoulder to offer her a smile.

She had changed into her favorite gray sweatpants and was wearing a navy T-shirt that said NYPD but was obviously not authentic because it was fitted. Her hair was still wet, droplets of water occasionally collecting at the ends and dripping onto her shoulders.

"Hey." She stood behind him, leaning against the counter. "Smells good," she added with a smile. "I might be hungry after all."

Elliot returned his attention to the stove, quietly laughing as he worked the spatula under the next sandwich. "Uh huh," he replied smugly.

She watched his movements, the material of his shirt stretching as he shifted and drawing attention to the lines of his shoulder blades and the muscles of his back.

"I hope this is okay. I didn't have much to work with tonight, but I figured, you know…comfort food," he finished with a shrug.

"It's great, El," she reassured him.

"I can stock up tomorrow. I just haven't had a chance to get to the store since-" He stopped abruptly. _Since_ _we_ _caught_ _the_ _case._

Since their world turned upside down.

Reality came crashing down once again. "Yeah," she said softly, reaching across the counter to take hold of her previously abandoned beer. It was far from chilled at this point, but she wasn't about to complain as long as it could continue to work to calm her frazzled nerves.

He cast a glance in her direction as he turned off the burners. "Liv, that's gotta be warm. Get a fresh one," he said, gesturing to the fridge. "I'm already one ahead of you."

She hesitated, but he extended his arm toward her, making the decision for her as he eased the bottle from her hand.

"There's plenty, Liv."

"Okay."

He dumped the contents down the sink as Olivia came beside him, their shoulders briefly brushing together as she opened the fridge. He watched as she leaned forward, her upper body bathed in the light emanating from the interior. His gaze was immediately drawn to the strangulation marks around her neck that she had kept hidden beneath her turtleneck all day. Some Nikolai's. Some his.

She straightened, pivoting to face him as she lifted another beer from one of two six-packs on the lower shelf. "You weren't kidding when you said that you had plen-" she stopped as she realized his focus.

He continued to stare at her throat, pain in his eyes.

She self-consciously brought her hand to her neck in attempts to cover the bruising but he lightly grasped her wrist, applying gentle pressure as he coaxed her to lower her arm to her side. She did so, averting her gaze as he gingerly lifted his hand to hover around the column of her throat – as if trying to determine which of her bruises might belong to him. His fingertips grazed her skin and he felt the rapid pulse of her heartbeat, betraying her apprehension at his silent scrutiny.

"El-" she said shakily.

"Sorry," he murmured, removing his hand. "I just…I'd forgotten how bad-"

"El-" she repeated, a hint of pleading in her tone. Her face flushed and she felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. She didn't want to think about this. She wanted to forget.

He understood. "Okay," he replied soothingly. "Here, let me get this," he changed the subject, gesturing to her beer.

"Thanks," she said, shifting her gaze from the wall to the floor as she handed him the bottle.

He removed the cap, extending the bottle toward her but waiting to let go until she met his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again, layers of meaning in the words.

She nodded, offering him a slight smile in attempts to ease his conscience. She wanted to try to lessen the tension by making some sort of jibe about whether or not he was ever planning on feeding her, but she knew that the words would never make it past the lump in her throat. She was determined not to cry in front of him again; he was struggling enough with his guilt and she was loath to add to it.

Thankfully he moved on for her.

"Dinner's ready," he said. "Gourmet grilled cheese," he added with a wink.

She smiled in earnest, forever grateful for his efforts to lighten the mood. "Where do you want to eat?" she asked, finding her voice.

"I usually go for the living room, but if you'd rather the counter-"

She shook her head. "Living room works for me."

Elliot nodded, reaching into one of the cabinets to take out some plates and bowls while Olivia carried both of their beers into the next room, setting them down on the coffee table. "Need any help?" she called.

"Nah. Just make yourself comfortable."

Given the height of the table she opted to sit cross-legged on the floor, resting her back against the futon. She took a couple sips of her beer, once again bringing her hand to her throat as she tested the tenderness of the area. It wasn't too bad, all things considered. She removed her hand, turning her attention to her wrists, bruises now overlapping the marks left by the handcuffs that had yet to completely fade. Scratches marred the backs of her hands, having scraped against the rough cement floor in the basement as she struggled to break free from the men that held her down. She lifted her elbows slightly to rotate her arms, taking in the bruises dotting her upper arms. She ran her hands back and forth along them, musing that it might have been wiser to wear a long-sleeved shirt to conceal some of the damage. She tugged on the cap sleeves, trying to cover a bit more of herself, but quickly realized that it was futile and gave up the effort. She sighed, closing her eyes and running the back of her hand along her forehead before leaning forward to pick up her beer once more.

Unnoticed, Elliot had observed her silent inspection from across the room. His heart ached for her. It was obvious that she felt incredibly self-conscious about her injuries and he vowed to do a better job at overlooking them – or, at least, to make her feel as though that were the case. God knows that it was not that simple. Every mark brought about a memory of the countless times he had forcefully put his hands on her the night before. He wondered if it was the same for her – that each bruise carried with it the memory of his abuse of her. He clenched his jaw and resumed the task of serving the food, determined to try to alleviate as much of her unease as possible.

She looked up at him as he carried in the food, bowls of soup balanced on top of the plates and flanked on either side by halves of the grilled cheese. He carefully deposited them on the table, returning to the kitchen to tear off a couple of paper towels before coming to sit beside her on the floor. She was staring at the sandwiches, fighting and failing to suppress an amused smile.

"What?" he asked warily, his brow furrowing.

"Nothing," she replied, attempting to hide her smile by taking a swig of her beer.

"What?" he asked again, slightly up in arms.

"Nothing," she repeated, looking up at him reassuringly and rolling her eyes when it became clear that he wouldn't let it go. "You cut the sandwiches into triangles," she explained. "I just…I like the triangles," she shrugged.

He chuckled. "I've been doing it that way ever since Maureen was little. She wouldn't eat the rectangles." He smiled at the recollection. "Said they didn't taste the same."

Olivia returned his smile, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. She swallowed, resting the sandwich back on her plate. "I'm inclined to agree," she grinned.

Elliot had his beer poised to take another sip, but he paused, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, the corners of his mouth lifting up into a satisfied smirk. "Good," he replied, his lips brushing against the bottle as he spoke.

Olivia dropped her gaze to her food, trying to ignore the feeling of warmth that had spread through her as her mind had unexpectedly been flooded by the recollection of the feel of his lips against hers. She took another large gulp of her beer. She realized that if her aim was to try to rein in her thoughts, this wasn't exactly going to help things, but she decided that, for the time being, her need to lessen her anxiety took precedence.

They ate in a comfortable silence, both of them hungrier than they had anticipated after subsisting purely on stress and adrenaline for so many hours. Elliot finished before her, stretching his legs out beneath the coffee table and continuing to nurse his beer. He watched as Olivia dragged the last bite of her sandwich across the plate, sopping up the remnants of butter before popping it into her mouth.

"Don't look at me like that," she told him, not bothering to look up to see his expression. She already knew.

"Like what?" he asked, clearly amused.

"I like butter," she said, warning in her tone.

"I can see that," he said, his words intending to tease but transforming into something else entirely as he was distracted by the way she brought her index finger and thumb to her mouth, suckling on them briefly to remove the traces of grease before wiping her hands on the paper towel.

She darted her eyes to his and found him staring at her lips. Her breath hitched and she hazarded a glance at his own, a wave of longing coursing through her. She quickly returned her gaze to his eyes, only to find him looking right back at her. For a moment she froze, knowing that he had seen her prior focus and not sure what to do to backtrack. There _was_ nothing she could do to backtrack. She flushed slightly and turned away, her heart pounding. She searched for any excuse to put some distance between them. She needed to collect herself.

Dishes. She could do the dishes.

She balled up her paper towel and dropped it inside of the now empty soup bowl, uncrossing her legs as she moved to stand.

"Liv," Elliot's voice stopped her, his hand reaching over to take hold of her plate. "Stay put. I'll do these."

"El, you cooked," she said by way of explanation. "It's only fair that I do the dishes."

"Who said anything about 'fair'?" he asked rhetorically, standing up and carrying both sets of dishes into the kitchen.

"El-" she began to protest.

"Besides, you're a guest," he added over his shoulder.

"I'm a squatter," she amended with a sigh, feeling safe enough to look up at him now that he was in the other room.

He turned from setting the dishes in the sink, placing both palms on the counter as he leaned toward her. "You're my _gu_ _e_ _st_ ," he emphasized, his eyes serious and his expression kind.

"Okay," she replied, allowing him his definition. Apparently for tonight, she was his guest. In some ways that was less confusing than trying to decipher the current definition of 'partner'.

Elliot would have been perfectly content to leave the dishes for the following day – which, he suspected, under normal circumstances Olivia would have been as well. But this wasn't about the dishes. It was about her need for space, and he wanted to give her what she needed.

Olivia pushed herself up from the floor, coming to sit on the futon instead. She tucked one leg beneath her, relaxing against the cushion as she listened to the sounds of Elliot in the kitchen. She leaned her head back, once again feeling the exhaustion creeping into her bones. Part of her was tempted to give in and let sleep claim her weary body and mind, but another part of her was terrified of what might await her in her dreams. She looked at the clock on the wall: it was just before 9:00pm.

Elliot finished up in the kitchen and came to rejoin her in the living room. He stood by the side of the futon, not making a move to sit. "Liv, you must be exhausted," he said, taking in her appearance. "Are you ready to turn in?"

"No," she shook her head but did not lift it from where it lolled against the back of the futon.

He regarded her with a hint of a smile. "You sure about that?" he questioned gently.

"It's too early."

"Says who?"

"Me," she replied with a tinge of irritation in her tone.

"Okay," he said, letting her win this round. "So what do you want to do?"

"I dunno," she mumbled sleepily. "Maybe watch some TV?" She pushed herself upright as if this would help her to feel more alert, running her hands through her still damp hair.

"Sure." He made his way to the corner behind her, switching on a lantern-style floor lamp and returning to the front of the room to turn off the overhead light. "You need anything?" he asked as he retrieved the remote control from the top of the television. "Another beer?"

"No," she replied. "Thanks."

He nodded, automatically walking toward the futon before he realized that it might have been better for him to sit in one of the chairs instead. He stopped dead in his tracks, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

She felt a pang of sadness at the fact they were in a position in which he would have to question whether or not she would feel comfortable with him sitting beside her. "Sit down, El," she reassured him, gesturing to the spot to her left.

He nodded, lowering himself to sit while carefully leaving a good foot of space in between them. The twelve inches might as well have been a mile. It only seemed to draw more attention to the immensity of all that they had undergone and all that had been stolen from them. For a moment they sat in silence, grappling with the painful reality that one man had been able to so grievously undermine a foundation of trust and friendship cultivated over more than ten years in the short span of a few hours.

Elliot spoke first, his throat choked with emotion. "You, uh," he cleared his throat, "You want to watch anything in particular?" he asked, starting to flip through the channels.

"No," she responded, her voice gravelly. "Something mindless."

"Yeah," Elliot murmured, studying her out of the corner of his eye. One leg remained curled beneath her and she had drawn the other into her chest, hugging her arms around herself and balancing her chin on her knee. The posture was protective – as if she were trying to seek comfort by crawling inside of herself. It made her appear that much smaller. She continued to stare straight ahead, seemingly unaware of the fact that he had stopped changing the channels. He closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of frustration and fatigue. He shifted slightly, pivoting to face her. "Liv?"

She nodded in response but continued to focus on the TV, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her chest was tight, grief and anger and longing and confusion compiling inside of her until there was no room left to breathe.

"Liv?" he repeated softly, slowly reaching toward her and gently placing a palm on her taut back.

She closed her eyes, losing the battle at containing the moisture within as two silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Hey," he soothed, scooting toward her so that the outside of his thigh met hers. Distance be damned. "C'mere," he whispered, skimming his hand along her back until his arm was around her. She allowed him to ease her backward, and she shifted to lean against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her legs folded to the side. "We'll figure this out," he mumbled into the top of her head.

She didn't know whether he meant the awkwardness, the case, the confusion, how to heal... Maybe he didn't either. It didn't matter.

She nodded.

He turned back to the TV, picking up the remote with his left hand as he resumed the channel surfing. She remained completely still, allowing the trails of her tears that dampened her cheeks to air-dry for fear that any movement on her part would cause him to remove his arm. They eventually settled on a network broadcast of _Return_ _of_ _the_ _Jedi._ It was a safe choice – no angst-ridden cliffhangers, a happy ending for all.

As they watched, Elliot occasionally absently stroked the bare skin of her arm, starting to unwind as he felt Olivia's weight sinking further into his side as she relaxed against him. Just as he began to wonder whether she might have fallen asleep, her soft voice reached his ears.

" _Empire_ is the best one," she said.

He smiled. "Yeah? Why?"

"Just is," she responded drowsily.

He chuckled, "Wouldn't have taken you for a romantic."

"Huh?" her brow furrowed.

"Han and Leia."

"I didn't say that."

"Am I wrong?"

She fell silent. "No," she admitted after a pause.

He heard the smile in her tone.

They settled back into silence, twenty minutes passing until Olivia's breathing became slow and even beside him. This time there was no doubt in his mind that she was asleep, the back of her hand slipping to rest against his thigh as the tension left her arm. He lowered the volume on the TV, deciding not to wake her until the end of the movie. If he suggested that she go to bed now, she would only deny that she had been sleeping, he rationalized, though the real reason may have had more to do with the fact that waiting would grant him a few more moments of being able to hold her.

He looked down at the hand lying limply on his thigh, her slender fingers curled inward toward her palm. He lightly trailed his fingers over the bruises on her wrist as if he could somehow erase them with his caress. The size of his hand dwarfed her own, and he was struck by the realization that Olivia's inimitable strength and spirit were housed inside of such a delicate package. He bowed his head slightly, brushing a lock of hair back from her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the air.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Note:_

 _Chapter 12 is one of the chapters that I feel most connected to. It remains one of the chapters that I see in my mind so vividly, it's as if this is an actual episode. It also happens to be the chapter that was the most fluid for me to write - as if it were writing itself. Maybe others will read it and think I'm insane. I'm okay with that. ;) Just know that over the years, when I've re-read any pieces of BP, this is the chapter I've returned to the most._

 _In case anyone is interested, I listened to the song "All or Nothing" by Nicola Hitchcock incessantly while writing this one._

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve**

Elliot had shifted, one leg extended along the futon while the other remained on the floor as he reclined to allow Olivia to lie against him in a more comfortable position. Her cheek was resting on his chest, her right arm draped across his stomach and her left tucked between his side and the back of the cushion. Elliot had wrapped his arms around her and was gently running his fingers through her hair in a half-hearted attempt to ease her back into consciousness. He didn't want her to awaken. He wanted to remain with her in this temporary moment of calm. What's more, Olivia had not moved a muscle in the last half hour, an indication that she was deeply asleep, blissfully beyond the point at which she could be plagued by nightmares – at least for the time being. Elliot knew that this stillness was transitory, and he felt cruel dragging her back into the present that was anything but secure.

Nevertheless, he didn't feel right about continuing to hold her without her consent. Her exhaustion had made the decision for her.

"Liv," he murmured, continuing the motion of his hand.

No response.

"Liv," he repeated more loudly.

"Mmph," she mumbled in protest, burrowing further into his arms.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her more tightly and giving her a couple of gentle squeezes to shake her slightly. "Liv, it's time for bed."

Her brow furrowed, gradually processing his words as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked at the TV, taking in her surroundings and slowly becoming aware of the rise and fall of Elliot's chest beneath her. Her eyes widened and she attempted to push herself up and off of him, faltering because her left arm had fallen asleep.

He placed his hand on her shoulder to help her, sliding his leg off of the futon as they both straightened.

"El, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be."

She smoothed her hands over her hair, shivering from the loss of his body heat. "You should have woken me up."

He shrugged. "I just did."

She shifted somewhat uncomfortably, embarrassed at having once again sought comfort in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Liv. I didn't mean-" he struggled to find the words. "I just…you were exhausted. I didn't have the heart to wake you sooner."

She nodded, looking down at her hands.

Once again, Elliot felt guilty. He had been selfish to wait. He cleared his throat. "I'll, um, I'll take the futon. You take the bed."

A wave of panic flooded over her. She snapped her head up to meet his gaze. "No, El. This is fine." She couldn't sleep in his bed. She just couldn't. She imagined what it would be like to lie in the imprint of his body, the smell of him lingering on the sheets… It was too much. The boundaries were already too blurred, too confusing.

"Liv, you'll be more comfortable. Please."

She adamantly shook her head and Elliot was taken aback by the fear in her eyes.

"El, I can't."

She didn't offer him any explanation, and he didn't push her. "Okay." He sat still for a moment, concern etched in his features. He pushed himself up to stand. "Let me just make this up for you."

"I can do it, El. It's no problem."

"Liv, I've got this."

His tone left no room for discussion.

"Okay. I'll, um… I'll be right back." She gestured to the bathroom.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, thanks."

He watched as she disappeared around the corner. Without any hints as to the source of her anxiety at the prospect of sleeping in his bed, he assumed that he really had traumatized her to such an extent that the very idea brought back painful associations for her. He turned away, trying to push the thought out of his head by focusing on simple tasks: turning off the TV, checking the windows, gathering blankets, a pillow; yet no amount of avoidance could diminish the ache within.

She emerged from the bathroom to find him smoothing a second blanket over the now flattened futon.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

There was tension in the air – a combination of melancholy and discomfiture at things left unspoken, and Olivia endeavored to fill the emptiness with words.

"I used some of your toothpaste."

He nodded. "You sure you don't need anything else?"

She shook her head.

He returned his attention to the futon. "Are you going to be warm enough?"

"I'll be fine."

"I could grab another blanket." He thought back over their years of stakeouts and countless wars over the thermostat – wars that she always won. He turned his head over his shoulder, shooting her a knowing glance. "I know how you get cold even when it's seventy degrees out."

"This is great, really," she replied, a slight smile gracing her lips.

"Okay." He turned to face her, taking in her appearance. She was practically asleep on her feet. "You'll call if you need anything?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He pressed his lips together, shoving his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from reaching out to her.

"Night, then."

"Night, El."

He forced himself to walk past her and head down the hallway.

She turned off the light and crawled under the covers. No sooner had she rested her head upon the pillow than she realized the irony. Everything smelled like him: the pillow, the blankets, the apartment, probably even herself. She curled her knees into her chest. She was cold, but no amount of extra blankets would be able to warm her. It was a chill brought about by emptiness and fear and fatigue. It was a chill that had only seemed to dissipate during the times in which she had found herself wrapped up in Elliot's arms. She missed him. He was in the next room, and she missed him. She buried her face in the pillow and inhaled deeply, as if the traces of him would be sufficient to fill the void.

After a while, she heard his footsteps crossing the hall from his bedroom to the bathroom, the light momentarily brightening her surroundings before he shut the door behind him and the darkness returned. Soon after, she heard him start the shower, the steady hiss a comforting reminder of the fact that he was close by. She tried to focus on the sound as a means to distract herself from her thoughts, and little by little her breathing slowed, her body relaxed, until sleep claimed her once more.

* * *

Elliot had finished in the shower and changed into a pair of boxers and a T-shirt when he heard her soft whimpers from the other room. He froze for a moment, his hand automatically reaching for the gun he'd placed on the counter. He turned off the bathroom light, allowing his eyes a few seconds to adjust before slowly turning the knob and opening the door. He crept into the hallway, scanning the area and noting that the chain remained in place on the front door and that nothing seemed out of place. He walked a few paces into the living room to check on her, and found her tossing and turning in the clutches of another nightmare. She was crying in her sleep, her tears glistening in the moonlight. He rubbed a hand over his head, his heart breaking at the sight. The urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her was overwhelming, and he had almost made up his mind to go to her when he heard it:

"No, please, Elliot!"

Her words sliced through him like a knife in his gut. He closed his eyes. God, he hated himself. He _c_ _ouldn'_ _t_ offer her comfort. She would only awaken to see the face of her attacker. That thought alone was what convinced him to walk away.

He made his way to his bedroom, depositing his weapon on the nightstand and sinking down onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He remained there, motionless, listening to the sound of her cries. Eventually she fell silent. Perhaps she had awoken, or perhaps she had finally slipped into a deeper sleep. He raised his head, not bothering to swipe at the traces of moisture on his skin. He stared at the floor, overcome by grief, his thoughts incoherent. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he ultimately lay down, turning onto his side. His eyes remained open, his gaze fixed at a random spot on the wall.

* * *

He could not have pinpointed the exact moment at which he had fallen asleep, but he was aware the instant that Olivia began to cry out once again. He rolled onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was back in that room. He was restraining her, mocking her, pushing inside of her again and again as she wept beneath him.

He was raping her.

He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. She had told him that he hadn't forced her, but Elliot was now more certain than ever that this wasn't the case. He remembered the panic in her expression after he had forced her to her knees – she had been terrified beyond the point of recognition. _H_ _e_ had caused this. He thought back to his attempts to end things – to get her to utter the words that would have prevented the assault from escalating any further. She had refused to say them every time. Yet now he was struck by the sickening realization that she must have _wanted_ to say the words, but had been trying to protect them. The moment that deadbolt slid into place, the ability to consent had been stolen from her. She had pushed herself to keep going for fear that, had she not, Nikolai would have killed them both.

Her cries subsided again, and Elliot was torn. They needed to talk. He didn't want to wake her, but he didn't know that he would be able to get through the night without speaking to her. He wondered if Olivia was even aware of the extent to which he had frightened her in that room, since she had continued to so adamantly deny it. He would have to confront her. He would have to tread carefully, but he would have to push her. If not, she would never admit the truth to him or to herself.

He stood, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and quietly padding down the hall. She wasn't sleeping. She was sitting with her back against the wall, her knees pulled into her chest. She startled as he came into view, trying and failing to regulate her rapid heart rate. He gave her time to get used to his presence, walking first into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge before slowly approaching her. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the futon, extending the bottle toward her.

She took it from him with a shaky hand, looking anywhere other than at him. "Thank you."

He nodded.

His nearness and his silence were making her nervous. "I-I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You don't need to apologize."

"It's…it's late. You should go back to bed."

"I'm not leaving you alone right now," he said calmly.

"El, I'm fine, really."

He took a deep breath. "Liv," he hesitated, "We need to talk about the nightmares."

Pain flitted across her features. She shook her head, taking a sip of the water.

"Liv-"

"El, I don't want to talk about this," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"I know."

She set her jaw, reopening her eyes and focusing on the bottle. She refastened the cap, and set it to the side. "Elliot, I'm tired. Please go back to bed."

She was doing everything in her power to push him away, but he wasn't going to let her.

"No. Not this time. Talk to me."

"Please, El? I can't do this right now."

"Yes, you can."

She shook her head, averting her gaze.

"Liv, please don't do this. Don't shut me out."

She said nothing, ducking her head and wrapping her arms around her middle.

"Why can't you look at me right now, huh?" he prodded gently, tucking a finger beneath her chin and lifting her head up to face him.

She bit her lip, trying to hold his gaze but faltering.

Elliot gestured between the two of them, indicating their close proximity on the futon. "This scares you right now. Why?"

"No it doesn't," she lied, her breathing rapid.

She attempted to turn away from him, but he brought his other hand to her face, holding her still.

"What do I do to you in your nightmares?" he persisted, his tone incredibly gentle.

Olivia's eyes welled with tears. "El, please."

"Do I hurt you?"

"Please don't do this," she whispered, wrenching her head out of his grasp.

"Do I rape you?" he continued, anguish in his eyes. He had to be strong. This was about her.

"God, El, _pleas_ _e_. Please don't do this," she begged, sliding away from him and pushing herself to her feet. She came to stop by the window, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Elliot followed, coming to stop a few inches away from her, his chest constricting as she involuntarily flinched. "Tell me what happens that makes you so afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Yes, you are," he said quietly. He was challenging her, but his tone was calm.

"I'm _not_."

He slowly reached his hand toward her, brushing the hair back from her face and gently tapping his index finger against her temple. "Liv, somewhere inside of here, you are."

"No," she shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I trust you. You would never hurt me."

"I did hurt you."

" _Carl_ hurt me," she responded, pain in her eyes as she struggled to convince herself of the distinction.

" _I_ hurt you."

"No," her voice wavered.

" _I_ hit you. I intimidated you. I held you down," he spoke slowly, deliberately emphasizing that the actions were his own.

"You had to," she rationalized. "That was the c-cover. That wasn't you."

"Wasn't it?"

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. "El-"

"Because I sure as hell know that Tara was never in that room."

"Elliot-" She was shaking, pushing against the wall of his chest to try to move past him.

He grasped her forearms, holding them up between them to draw attention to her wrists. "These are bruises that _I_ inflicted. Me."

"Let me go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

He immediately released her. His intent was not to frighten her, only to prove his point. "And these," he continued, bringing his palm to lightly graze her cheek, his voice gruff. "I caused these."

Olivia whimpered, tears streaming down her face. She didn't want to hear him.

"And I will never forget," he rasped, a lone tear escaping and sliding down his cheek. "I will never forget what I did to you…what I put you through."

Olivia choked back a sob, her shoulders shaking.

"Tell me what happens in your dreams, Liv." He cupped her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her tears.

Her chest was heaving, her sobs intensifying as she struggled to comply with his request.

He waited for her.

"It changes every time."

"What does?"

"Y-you…Th-them," she hiccupped. "I always think it's you – the real you," her chin quivered, "but it's not." She took several shuddering breaths, anxiety taking over. "I-I can't do this. Please don't make me do this."

The desperation and pleading in her tone were almost more than he could bear. His heart was breaking, but he knew, now more than ever, that she had to talk about this, and that he had to hear her. "What happens next?" he asked, leading her, guiding her as he would a victim's statement.

"I beg you to help me."

"Liv, why do you need my help?"

She closed her eyes, her entire body trembling. "Because they're there," she breathed.

"Who's there?" he asked gently, already knowing the answer but needing for her to voice it.

"Nikolai…Harris…sometimes the others."

"And when you beg me for help?" he asked, his voice heavily laden with emotion.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, her chest and stomach erupting into violent, jerky spasms. She didn't want to say it aloud, because it would be a confirmation of everything that she was trying so hard to deny. She shook her head. She had already said too much, and even though she knew that Elliot had already intuited the words she had yet to speak, she didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to admit that, more than any of the others, _he_ was the man who was haunting her in her dreams.

Elliot tried to begin for her. "I don't help you."

She shook her head.

"What happens, Liv?"

She looked up at him, completely grief-stricken. She didn't want to hurt him. The thought only made her cry harder.

"Ssh…it's okay. Liv, it's okay. You can tell me." He rested his palms on her shoulders, waiting for her sobs to abate enough to permit her to speak.

"S-sometimes it's what you don't do."

He returned her tentative gaze with a question in his eyes.

She looked down at the ground. "Sometimes you'll watch them," she murmured. "I'll call for you and you'll…you'll just laugh."

His hands tightened their grip.

She lowered her voice, knowing that her words were tearing him apart. "Or I…I'll think you're going to help, but instead you'll trap me…hold me down." She fell silent, her breathing rapid and shallow.

She was holding back. "Liv, what else?"

She closed her eyes, choking back another sob. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. "Sometimes you join in."

Her shoulders shook and she tried to turn away from him. She cursed her lack of control over her emotions and her mind. That she could ever confuse the man who had stood beside her and protected her for all of these years with someone capable of such acts shook her to her core.

Elliot pulled her to him, enfolding her into an embrace as she wept.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Liv."

"El, it's not you. I _know_ you. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I frightened you," he repeated.

She said nothing – for the first time acknowledging the truth. She cried, clutching his shirt in her hands for fear that this silent admission would be the final insult from which they would never be able to recover. She had been afraid of him. She wasn't sure what this meant – about her trust in him, about their trust in each other.

"Shh, Liv. God knows that I frightened myself. That I could force you…" his voice cracked. "That I could r-rape-"

"No!" She pushed away from him to look him in the eyes. She shook her head, looking at him with a mixture of pain and concern and incredulity. "You didn't rape me, El."

"Liv, I forced you-"

She tried to reach for him, but he took a step back.

"No, El."

"I did!" he said sharply. "And don't try to tell me that the tears were all for show, or that you had a choice in any of this, because we both know that's bullshit."

"Elliot, I consented," she gritted, finding her anger.

"We were locked in that goddamned room, Olivia! You had no choice!"

She didn't back down. She raised her voice right back at him.

"Damn it, Elliot, neither did you! We made the choice before we ever got there! We both knew the risks; we both knew what was at stake."

He shook his head dismissively. "No, Liv. It doesn't work that way. Agreeing to do something you don't want to do for fear of the consequences isn't the same as consenting by your own free will. We see it every damned day."

"I consented," she repeated, her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched at her sides.

"Jesus, Liv! You've admitted that I scared the shit out of you, so why is it so damned hard for you to admit that I-"

"Because I wanted it!" she yelled, her entire body shaking from anger and grief and fatigue. "Damn it, El," she cried, spinning away from him and clutching her head in her hands.

The sudden silence in the room was deafening.

Olivia's wide eyes stared toward the window, her breaths coming in shallow pants as she panicked at what she had just revealed. Elliot had frozen behind her, his mouth agape from lack of preparedness or knowledge of how to respond.

When she finally spoke again her voice was small, weak.

"N-not like that…not that way…but I wanted…I wanted _you_." Her chest ached from the admission and she wanted to crawl away and hide – anything to save herself from the pain of rejection and humiliation. She wrapped her arms around herself. "You scared me…but you didn't rape me." Her voice broke. "Damn it, El. Why can't you just let this go?"

Elliot was silent for a moment, still reeling from her words. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, so many things he wanted to tell her, but he couldn't go there now. Now was the time to address the issue that had been tormenting him since they were inside of that room – the reason for which he was convinced that her attempts to absolve him of his guilt were false. He slowly approached her, standing behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. When he spoke, all traces of frustration were gone, leaving only pain and remorse.

"Because you broke apart, Liv. Because I forced you to your knees and exposed myself to you, and you broke apart."

She was trembling beneath his palms. "That wasn't because of you," she whispered.

"I saw the terror in your eyes, Liv. I saw it."

She swiped at the tears that continued to fall. "Elliot, please just trust me on this?"

"No. I need to know."

She sniffed and exhaled shakily. "It wasn't what you did. It was what you s-said," she managed, her diaphragm continuing to spasm.

His brow furrowed in confusion and he tried to think back to that moment – to filter through all of the cruel and hurtful things that he had said to her in attempts to find the one that could possibly have been responsible for causing such an extreme response.

"Y-you said…" she struggled to speak.

"What did I say, Liv?"

"You said what…what h-he said…"

Ice spread through his veins.

 _You_ _bite_ _me_ _and_ _you'_ _re_ _dead._

He spun her around, cupping her face in his hands. "What did he do to you, Liv?"

She shook her head at the fear in his expression. "I t-told you. Nothing happened."

He looked back and forth between her eyes, unsure of whether or not to believe her.

"Fin got there in time."

"Liv-"

"It was close," she whispered. "Another couple of seconds and he w-would have…" she closed her eyes, her tears coating his palms.

"God, Liv, I just…if I'd known… I never…I _never_ would have…" he trailed off.

She bit her lip.

"Liv," his voice broke. "Why…why didn't you tell me?"

She took in a shuddering breath. "I didn't…I didn't want you to think less of me," she admitted quietly.

"Think less of-" His heart broke. "Liv, look at me. Please look at me."

She forced herself to meet his gaze.

"I'd never think that. Never," he emphasized, the moonlight reflecting off of the tears in his eyes. "Why would you ever think that I could possibly-"

She looked away.

"Liv?"

She stared at his chest feeling utterly exhausted and defeated. She had already blurted out so many truths that she had never intended to reveal to him that she decided that it was too late to salvage any remnants of her dignity. She would tell him. She would tell him and he would know just how pathetic she was, and then she would walk away. He needed a partner that he could trust to have his back, not a basket case who couldn't even look after herself.

"You said it yourself, El. I need to be able to do my job. I should have known. I should never have let him bring me down there."

Elliot swallowed as the pain of the Gitano case came flooding back. "Liv, none of this was your fault." He would give anything to have been able to take back those words – words spoken in anger and panic in the face of truths that he had not yet been ready to recognize within himself. Once again Olivia was paying the price for his own shortcomings.

"Liv, when I…when I said those things-"

She cut him off, her voice thick with fatigue. "There was a moment, when he had me trapped… I gave up. I gave up, and all I kept thinking was that I wanted you to find me." She let out a sad laugh. "God, how pathetic is that?" When she had prayed for someone to find her, it hadn't been for Fin, it had been for Elliot, and he hadn't even been in the building.

"Liv-"

"And afterward I just kept thinking that you were right." She _had_ needed someone to come to her rescue. She'd had a job to do, and she had failed.

He shook his head. "Liv, no."

"That's why I didn't tell you." Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

She pulled away from him, coming to sit on the edge of the futon, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Every single protective wall had been ripped away and she physically ached. She had no tears left to shed. She had nothing left at all.

"Olivia-" he tried again, but she was shutting down, pushing him away, retreating in the only way in which she could.

"Elliot, please don't. Please, just go. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I'm having these dreams. I don't know anything anymore. Just, please go back to bed. I'm fine – I'll be fine. I know what I promised you, and I promise I'll do better."

Like hell he was going anywhere. He approached her, lowering himself to sit on the coffee table directly opposite her bowed head. "What do you mean you promised me? Liv? What promise?"

"I told you… I told you I could handle this. And I can. I'll do better."

He sighed. He didn't have the foggiest idea of where to even begin to try to fix any of this. "Liv, you've been handling more than any one person should ever have to handle."

She said nothing, so he continued.

"I would do anything – _anything_ – to take back those words I hurled at you…but I can't. I don't know what to do to make you believe me, but the only thing I've ever known is that you are the strongest person I've ever met."

She shook her head where it rested in her palms and let out an empty chuckle.

"Why do you do that? Why do you push yourself so hard?"

"Elliot, I've cried more in the past twenty-four hours than I've cried in all of the years you've known me."

"And you've had reason to."

"I'm hardly a pillar of strength."

"To me, you are."

She remained huddled over herself, and he couldn't bear it any longer.

"Liv, please look at me." He tentatively reached toward her, smoothing his hand over her hair until his fingers splayed along the nape of her neck. "You don't have to hide from me."

The warmth of his palm was simultaneously reassuring and painful, and she found it difficult to breathe. Even in the darkened room, the thought of looking up at him after all that she had disclosed was terrifying.

He felt her trembling ever so slightly. It was barely detectable, but it was there.

"El, I'm tired."

He smiled sadly at what was yet another attempt on her part to get him to leave.

"Liv, please don't push me away. I promise I won't ask you anything else tonight. I promise."

She slowly lifted her head and he let his hand fall away. She straightened but continued to avert her gaze. He reached out, taking both of her hands in his and running his thumbs along her wrists.

"It's, um… it's late," she said. She stared at their joined hands, chewing on her lower lip.

He nodded. After a pause, he stood, never releasing his grasp.

She finally looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest and confusion etched in her features.

"Stay with me tonight," he murmured. He hadn't gone back on his promise – not really. As much as he would never coerce her, he wasn't asking.

Her wide eyes returned his steady gaze, and before she could cycle through all of the reasons why this was a bad idea, she found herself standing and following him down the hallway toward his bedroom, her right hand nestled in his left. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her as they reached the open doorway, silently confirming that she still wished to cross the threshold. She nodded and they continued, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering in through the windows the only thing illuminating their path. He released her hand at the bedside, placing a gentle palm on her lower back as he stepped aside. After a brief hesitation she climbed under the covers, sliding over to allow him the space to follow.

He began to spread up the covers, intending to lie on top of them when her voice stilled his movements.

"El?"

"Yeah?"

"It's…it's okay."

"Liv, I, uh…"

"El, I trust you."

He drew a hand along his jaw. Though he would never intentionally betray that trust, he wasn't altogether sure he could trust his body not to react to her presence. "Liv, I don't know…"

"El, it's your own bed. You should be comfortable."

He almost wanted to laugh. He had a feeling it would be difficult for him to get much sleep tonight regardless. "Okay."

She felt the cool rush of air as he lifted the covers and slid in beside her. They lay on their backs, both trying to relax. Olivia was looking up at the shadows cast on the ceiling, struggling to regulate her breathing. Eventually Elliot turned his head toward her, studying her profile.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." Her eyelids were heavy but she continued to fight to keep them open. A few moments passed before she added, "I, um…I don't know if I want to fall back asleep." She didn't want to have another nightmare, especially not if it would mean disturbing Elliot.

"Liv, you should try to get some rest."

"I know."

She sighed, shifting as she pulled the covers up to her chin. When she slipped her arms beneath, the back of her hand brushed against his. She left it there for a second longer than she probably should have before reluctantly sliding her hand closer to her side. A moment later she felt his fingers brush against hers, and she turned her head to face him, nervously meeting his gaze.

"I'm right here," he said, seeking the gaps in between her fingers as he curled his own against her palm. He had meant the comment to be reassuring, but the more he thought about things, the less certain he became. He raked his eyes over her face, knowing that he was the cause of so many of the fears plaguing her in her dreams. His brow furrowed. "I, uh… I don't know if that makes things better or worse."

She squeezed his fingers. "El, it makes things better. It does."

His throat felt tight and he turned his head away from her, once again facing the ceiling. His mind conjured up a jumbled blur of images and recollections from the night before. He remembered the fear and pain in her eyes, her anguished cries as she begged for him to stop, and his heart broke at the knowledge that this was what awaited her – tormenting her and preventing her from finding any peace. His eyes burned and he shut them, pinching the bridge of his nose against the moisture that threatened to form.

"Elliot, if you're going to blame someone, blame Nikolai. Please don't do this to yourself. I meant what I said. I've never blamed you for any of this – not now, not ever."

He cleared his throat. "Liv, I've been being selfish. You keep asking for space, and I keep crowding you."

She sighed. She didn't want the space. She just didn't want to get used to the proximity. "El, it's not…I don't…" she trailed off. She rubbed a hand over her face, leaving her hand there to shield her eyes – as if the room were too bright, or her thoughts too dangerous. "You're not crowding me. That's not the problem."

He wasn't sure what response he had been expecting, but it hadn't been that one. He let his hand fall back to his side, turning his head to study her once more. "Liv? What is the problem?" he asked softly. He stroked his thumb along the side of her hand, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

She flattened her palm against her forehead, her eyes closed. "You said you weren't going to ask me anymore questions tonight," she whispered.

"I was hoping you would have forgotten about that," he replied through his smile.

She chuckled, peering at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"I guess not."

They settled back into silence, gradually becoming aware of the gentle patter of rain against the windows. Olivia's breathing slowed, exhaustion beginning to claim her despite her struggles to stay awake.

"El?" she murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Everything."

He turned toward her, tugging lightly on their joined hands to try to extricate his fingers from hers.

Her brow furrowed sleepily and she tightened her grasp.

He smiled, running his thumb reassuringly along the back of her hand. "I'm not going anywhere, Liv," he breathed, lifting their hands enough to slip his left palm beneath hers.

Only then did she relax enough to permit him to remove his right hand and he shifted, using his left to bring her arm across herself as he pulled her toward him. She rolled the rest of the way onto her side and he closed the remaining distance between them, his chest resting against her back. She made a contented noise as he gave a gentle squeeze with the arm encircling her waist.

"Liv?"

"Mm?"

"You gonna be mad at me for this tomorrow?"

"No."

He was quiet for a moment, listening to the rain and the sound of her breathing.

"Liv?"

"Mm?"

"You gonna let me do this again tomorrow?"

"It's a bad idea," she slurred.

He smiled against her hair. "Why?"

"You're asking questions," she responded grumpily, slightly more alert.

"Humor me."

"You're not playing fairly."

"I'm not playing," he replied softly.

She shivered and he rubbed his chin along her shoulder.

"Just is," she eventually responded, wondering if he could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage.

He sighed. He wouldn't push her. He'd promised not to. "Night, Liv."

"Night, El."


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Note:_

 _Ah... This chapter was apparently originally posted following an SVU set visit (charity auction I split with someone). It led to some fun interactions and photos with Chris and Mariska, including a photographed hug with Meloni that I used to stare at and try to remember why I was stupid enough to let go... ;) We also learned massive spoilers about the episode "Zebras" and we had to sit on the secrets until the season finale aired. Mariska invited us to the JHF gala, and that came and went, and then I remember feeling really bummed that it was all over. Readers were patient with me, and I finally got this up._

 _Elliot and Olivia have been through a lot (understatement), and putting them back together again is, well, tricky to say the least. My hope is that this chapter helps to do some of that in a way that makes sense._

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Perhaps due to exhaustion, perhaps due to Elliot's proximity, Olivia had thankfully slept soundly for the rest of the night. Their bodies had shifted, unconsciously seeking greater closeness in their sleep. They were facing one another, pressed closely together into an undeniable embrace, one of her thighs nestled in between his. Elliot's arms were wrapped securely around her, instinctively pulling her closer. His right was serving as her pillow, and she had snaked her own around his torso, clinging to him even though his left was anchoring her securely in place.

Olivia was the first to awaken and was momentarily disoriented. She felt warm, safe. She inhaled deeply, breathing in a scent that was comforting and familiar. Her eyes fluttered open and she realized that her face was pressed against his neck, her lips brushing against the warmth of his skin. As her awareness increased, her heart began to beat more rapidly as she realized that the entire length of her body was connected to his. She lay completely still but for the increase of her breathing, partially because of the way in which Elliot's limbs were pinning her against him, partially because of the fact that she did not want to move away from him. This was a degree of physical closeness that was forbidden while awake, but permissible in sleep because it was unintentional. Elliot's breathing remained slow and even. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself to fall back asleep so that she could continue to pretend that she was unaware of the boundary issue – continue to pretend that her lingering in his arms was purely accidental.

She realized that this was the closest they had been since he had lain on top of her in that room, and she simultaneously shuddered at the recollection of the undercover op and flushed as the position triggered thoughts that were far from platonic. She shivered, her nipples hardening against his chest. Oh God. She needed to move away. She attempted to shift backward to extricate herself from his embrace but he grunted in protest and pulled her even more closely to him. She bit back a moan as the motion caused his thigh to press more firmly against her. Once again, she tried to wriggle away from him, but froze as her motions had the unintended effect of causing Elliot to groan as he began to harden against her. She swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. Heat spread throughout her and she bit her lip, trying to prevent herself from rocking against him…but then he rocked against her, causing a small sound to escape her lips.

Whether it was the sound or the feel of the rapid rise and fall of her chest, Elliot began to stir. He stretched slightly, his hand finding the smooth skin of her back left exposed where her shirt had ridden up and slipping beneath the fabric to run along her spine. It came to rest between her shoulder blades, his palm flattening against her as he held her.

Her breath was coming in shallow pants and she tried to steel herself for the moment at which he would fully awaken and push her away.

"Mmph," he rumbled contentedly, rubbing his chin along the top of her head. His hand began to move again, slowly skimming upward until his forearm was flush against the curve of her back and his fingertips emerged through the top of her shirt, idly sifting through the tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck.

She swallowed. She wanted nothing more than for him to continue his lazy exploration, but he was not yet alert enough to know what he was doing and she needed for him to stop. "El?" she said tentatively, her voice small.

He stilled his movements, his brow furrowing as he opened his eyes and blinked a few times to adjust to the daylight. "Liv?" he returned groggily, gradually becoming aware of the position of their bodies, her warm breath on his neck, and the feel of her bare skin beneath his arm.

She nodded against him, trying to regulate her breathing.

His eyes widened as he started to process the information. He slid his arm out from beneath her shirt and she shivered once again, cursing her body for reacting to what was yet another innocent action on his part. He arched backwards bringing his hand to cup her cheek as he tried to look her in the eye, but her eyes remained closed.

"Liv, I'm so sorry. You okay?"

She nodded again, not trusting her voice.

She felt tension in her arm and realized that he had been attempting to move further away from her but was stopped by her hand that continued to clutch his shoulder. She released him, reluctantly sliding her arm from his torso and bringing it to rest in between them, trying to position it in a way that would cover her chest.

"Sorry," she breathed feeling the blush creep across her cheeks.

"Hey, look at me," he coaxed.

She bit her lower lip, hesitating a moment before opening her eyes and timidly meeting his gaze.

"You're okay?" he asked again, concern in his eyes. "I didn't mean to uh…I mean I hope I didn't make you uncom-"

She shook her head where it continued to rest on his arm. "I'm fine, El. It's okay."

He studied her carefully for a few moments and Olivia held her breath, trying to maintain a neutral expression as she mentally prepared herself for his absence. This was it, she told herself. This was the moment that he was going to move away. She watched as the vestiges of doubt and worry ebbed from his features to be replaced by cautious acceptance of her words, and then he surprised her completely by relaxing and resting his head back down on the pillow. Once again hidden from view, her eyes widened, trying to figure out what to make of their current situation. He slid his hand from her cheek to the base of her skull, his fingers weaving into her hair as his thumb stroked her ear.

"You sleep okay?" he asked, his lips almost brushing against her forehead.

"Yeah."

"Any more nightmares?"

"No," she replied, desperately trying to ignore the fact that their limbs were still intertwined since Elliot did not appear to notice.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know."

He raised his head to look over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. "Eight thirty," he informed her, resuming his prior position.

"Do you have to go in?"

"No. Cap said he'd call."

"Oh," she managed, trying to continue their casual conversation but struggling to stay on topic as his thumb once again absently caressed the shell of her ear.

"You trying to get rid of me?" he asked through his smile.

Her eyes widened even more. "No," she said shakily.

He heard the slight tremble in her voice and his tone immediately became serious. "Liv, you want space all you have to do is ask."

"I know."

"You want to get up?"

She was silent for a moment. This was the time to say the word. Three letters would nudge them in the direction of what was once considered normal: _Ye_ _s_. She took a deep breath. "No." She tensed as soon as the word left her lips.

Elliot released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Her inflection almost made it a question. He smiled as a feeling of calm washed over him for the first time in longer than he could remember. It was a calm that stemmed from understanding. He _knew_. This was finally a fear that he felt somewhat capable of ameliorating – at least he hoped to be able to, provided he didn't screw things up any further. He was painfully aware of the extent to which his actions had harmed her. He could only pray that he could tread carefully enough to repair the damage.

"Me neither," he murmured. He moved his arm, recreating the position in which he had held her before, but this time with his forearm resting on the outside of her shirt. "This okay?" he asked, aware of the tension in her body.

"Yeah."

He took the fact that she wasn't trying to move away from him as a good sign. He wanted her to get accustomed to his proximity – to find safety and reassurance in his arms. He knew that he couldn't erase the past, but he hoped that as he started to show her this side of himself, his care and tenderness would start to make the memories of his force and aggression fade.

"El?"

"Yeah?"

"Is your arm okay? I mean, my head isn't too heavy?" She grimaced. She was babbling. God she just needed to keep quiet.

He smiled. "It's perfect." He gently stroked the back of her neck with the pads of his thumb and index finger. "You think you can get back to sleep?"

She shivered. "I dunno." At the rate her heart was beating, she doubted that sleep was at all on the horizon.

"You've gotta be exhausted, Liv. You probably only got a few good hours."

She shrugged, her throat suddenly tight as she was flooded by recollections of the night before.

"I'll tell you what," he said soothingly. "Why don't you close your eyes, try to rest for a while, and if you still can't sleep we'll get some breakfast."

She nodded. She didn't question how he knew that her eyes were still open. She closed them, hugging her arm more closely against her chest to prevent herself from reaching out to him.

He continued the slow stroking motion of his fingers against her neck, intermittently rubbing his arm back and forth between her shoulder blades. After a few minutes he felt her begin to relax against him and he increased the gentle pressure of his fingers, starting a circular motion as he began to massage away the tension in her neck, being careful to avoid putting pressure on the areas that he knew were still tender and bruised. She let out a small sound of contentment and he continued his movements, her head gradually growing heavier against him as she started to drift off. His touch became lighter again, and after a few more minutes he moved his hand to trail his fingertips from the side of her forehead to her temple, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He raised his head to check on her. She was sleeping soundly, her lips slightly parted. He raked his eyes over her and his gaze fell on the series of bruises dotting her upper arm. He drew his palm over the marks, lightly curling his fingers around her bicep. He knew they were his. Pain immediately clouded his features and he lay back down, bringing his hand around to cradle the back of her head. He closed the remaining distance between them, placing a kiss on her forehead. He allowed his lips to rest against her, the warmth of her skin a comforting reminder of the fact that she was out of harm's way. He vowed to keep it that way.

* * *

He awoke to the vibration of his cell phone on the nightstand. He and Olivia had remained in relatively the same position, except that he was now lying on his back, Olivia's arm and leg draped over him. He reached for the phone, unsure as to how long it had been ringing. It was Cragen. He didn't want to disturb her, but he also didn't want to run the risk of losing the call in the time it would take to slip into the hallway, so he decided to stay put.

"Stabler," he answered, his voice low.

" _Elliot_."

"Everything okay?"

" _I_ _was_ _going_ _to_ _ask_ _you_ _that,"_ he responded with a tinge of amusement. _"How'_ _s_ _she_ _holding_ _up?_ _"_

He looked down at Olivia's sleeping form. "She's fine, Cap." It wasn't a lie. Not at the moment. "You get anything?"

" _Nothing_ _yet._ _I_ _ha_ _v_ _e_ _everyone_ _on_ _it._ _"_

"And my old place?"

" _It'_ _s_ _secure._ _I_ _f_ _Petrov_ _'_ _s_ _planning_ _something,_ _he_ _hasn'_ _t_ _made_ _a_ _move_ _yet._ _Officers_ _are_ _standing_ _by._ _"_

His brow furrowed. "You think he's targeting Liv, specifically?"

" _It'_ _s_ _possible,_ _but_ _I_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _want_ _to_ _make_ _assumptions._ _W_ _e_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _have_ _much_ _to_ _go_ _on_ _in_ _terms_ _of_ _a_ _profile._ _"_

"Understood."

Olivia began to stir, and Elliot wrapped his arm around her more securely, covering her hand that rested on his chest with his own. If Cragen was curious as to why Elliot was barely speaking above a whisper, he hadn't acknowledged it.

"You need me to come in?" Elliot continued.

Olivia processed his words and sleepily opened her eyes. She slid her leg off of his and tilted her head up, trying to meet his gaze. He offered her an apologetic smile.

" _No,_ _for_ _the_ _time_ _being_ _I_ _think_ _it_ _'_ _s_ _best_ _if_ _you_ _stay_ _put._ _Keep_ _a_ _low_ _profile,_ _keep_ _your_ _eyes_ _open,_ _and_ _keep_ _your_ _phones_ _on._ _"_

"Will do."

" _Elliot,_ _I_ _want_ _to_ _know_ _your_ _location_ _at_ _all_ _times._ _You_ _leave_ _that_ _apartment_ _for_ _any_ _period_ _of_ _time,_ _I_ _expect_ _a_ _call._ _Are_ _we_ _clear?"_

"Crystal."

" _We_ _get_ _anything,_ _I_ _'_ _ll_ _call_ _you."_

"Thanks, Cap." He snapped his phone shut, extending his arm to rest it back on the nightstand. "Sorry, Liv," he said, lightly squeezing her hand.

She shook her head. "Anything?"

"Not yet."

She raised her head slightly, looking at the clock. Her eyes widened; it was shortly after noon. She attempted to roll over onto her back and Elliot reluctantly removed his arm to give her the freedom to do so. She flumped down on the pillow, rubbing her hands over her face before turning to look at him once more. "Please tell me you weren't awake this whole time."

"Nah," he reassured her. "The call woke me up."

"You have to go in?"

"No. He wants us to lie low for the time being."

She nodded.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, stretching and reclining against the headboard. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I slept too long."

He smiled down at her. "No such thing. Besides, we're both playing catch-up."

He had a point. Neither one of them had slept more than a few hours at a time since they caught the case.

She found herself returning his smile. "Fair enough."

He had propped one leg up and was balancing his forearm on his knee while his other hand worked the kinks out of his neck. She watched his movements and remembered the feel of his hand on her skin as he slowly eased away her tension. He had managed to make her feel completely relaxed – so much so that she could not remember the exact moment that she had finally fallen back asleep. Her smile slowly faded as the nagging feelings of fear began to claim her once more. Little by little Elliot was breaking down her walls, and she was letting him in a bit further each time. This, coupled with the realization of all that she had revealed the night before, left her feeling incredibly vulnerable.

He immediately noticed her shift in demeanor. She was staring at his chest, a hollow look in her eyes. It was as if with every passing second he could see her retreating farther into herself.

"You hungry?" he asked, trying to reach her again.

"Oh, um…I'm not sure."

"Want some coffee?"

"Okay," she replied, starting to push herself up.

He reached over and put his hand on her arm. "I got it. Take your time." At her questioning look he added, "I woke you up. The least I can do is make you coffee."

She nodded. He was giving her some space and she appreciated it.

He slid out of the bed and she watched as he grabbed the gun from the nightstand and made his way out of the room. _"_ _Always_ _prepared,"_ she mused. She lay back down, looking at his empty spot. She had never felt more confused or conflicted. She wasn't sure what to make of this new Elliot. He sure as hell had never acted anything remotely like this in all of the years she'd known him, but, then again, they'd never been put through anything remotely like the events of the past few days either. The other factor that she could not ignore no matter how hard she tried was the fact that he'd also never been single. She wasn't sure how much to read into his actions, and how much to attribute to his desire to protect her and make up for the way he had been forced to treat her. What had shaken her most of all was his lack of reaction to their proximity this morning. She had so completely prepared herself for him pushing her away, that she had been entirely unprepared for the alternative. He had checked on her to make sure that she was okay, and then calmly resumed his position – as if waking up in each other's arms was a normal occurrence.

She smoothed her hand over the spot that he had just vacated, still warm from his body heat, and glanced around the room.

" _Right…completely_ _normal,_ _"_ she thought to herself.

She rolled over, looking out of the windows at the sun that was trying to shine for the first time in days. She stayed there, curled up on her side, until she began to smell the coffee brewing in the other room. She pushed herself up, stretching and walking toward the kitchen. Elliot smiled as she approached, extending her a cup when his cell phone rang for the second time.

"Stabler."

" _Elliot,_ _it_ _'_ _s_ _Fin._ _"_

"What's up?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

" _I_ _'_ _m_ _with_ _Warner._ _She_ _found_ _something_ _and_ _I_ _think_ _you'_ _ll_ _want_ _to_ _hear_ _this._ _It'_ _s_ _about_ _Nikolai._ _"_

"What about him?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

" _Liv_ _there?"_

"Yeah, I'll put you on speaker."

" _Same_ _here,_ _man._ _"_

"Okay, shoot," Elliot said as Olivia came to stand closer.

" _I_ _compared_ _the_ _DNA_ _from_ _the_ _blood_ _on_ _the_ _note_ _with_ _a_ _sample_ _I_ _took_ _from_ _Nikolai,_ _"_ Melinda's voice explained. _"They_ _definitely_ _share_ _the_ _same_ _Y_ _chromosomal_ _DNA._ _My_ _guess_ _is_ _that_ _Petrov_ _did_ _this_ _deliberately._ _He_ _wanted_ _you_ _to_ _know_ _who_ _he_ _was._ _"_

Olivia nodded. "Why else write it in blood?" she followed.

" _Exactly,"_ Melinda continued. _"But_ _there'_ _s_ _more._ _I_ _compared_ _Nikolai_ _'_ _s_ _sample_ _to_ _the_ _one_ _taken_ _from_ _Lara_ _at_ _the_ _medical_ _center._ _"_ She sighed. _"_ _He_ _'_ _s_ _her_ _father."_

All of the air had been sucked from the room. Until that moment, Olivia had not thought it possible for her hatred of Nikolai to augment any further. She was wrong.

"How is that possible?" Elliot asked, trying to detach himself from his own emotional response. "I thought he was impotent."

" _That'_ _s_ _what_ _I_ _said,_ _man,_ _"_ Fin interjected.

" _He_ _wasn'_ _t_ _always,"_ Melinda explained. _"_ _My_ _exam_ _showed_ _severe_ _scarring_ _around_ _his_ _genitals._ _B_ _est_ _I_ _can_ _tell,_ _his_ _penis_ _was_ _severed_ _and_ _reattached."_

" _Trust_ _me,_ _"_ Fin added. _"It_ _ain_ _'_ _t_ _pretty."_

"Maybe someone finally bit back," Olivia said icily.

"Maybe Lara's mother did," Elliot suggested somewhat hesitantly.

" _Lara_ _becomes_ _payback,"_ Fin concluded.

"Nikolai said he promised her mother that he would see to it that Lara was 'taken care of'," Olivia murmured, bile rising in the back of her throat.

"We get Petrov, we'll know for sure," Elliot said.

" _We_ _'_ _re_ _working_ _on_ _it,_ _"_ Fin assured them. _"_ _I_ _'_ _ll_ _keep_ _you_ _posted."_

"Thanks." Elliot snapped the phone shut and looked at Olivia whose lips were pressed into a thin line. "I know," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. How a father could ever abuse his own child was beyond his comprehension, let alone to the extent that Lara was forced to suffer – be it at the hands of Nikolai or his many pawns.

"I want to see her," she said, fire and pain in her eyes.

"Okay," he responded softly, his hand squeezing her shoulder. "Go on and get ready," he said with an incline of his head, "I'll call Cragen."

She nodded, disappearing down the hallway to change.

* * *

They rode to the hospital in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Even without any real proof to support the theory that Lara's mother had been the one to emasculate Nikolai, the more time that passed, the more convinced they became that this was the case. It was fitting with Nikolai's penchant toward sadism that he would seek to get his revenge by targeting her innocent child – for him to force her to witness the acts of abuse, all the while reminding her that she was responsible for bringing the torment upon her daughter because she had dared to defy him.

Elliot's left hand found the small of Olivia's back as they made their way toward the PICU, his right never straying far from his side arm. They had both been vigilant as they crossed the parking lot. Upon entering the building, Olivia had relaxed somewhat, but Elliot remained on edge, knowing that of all of the places that Olivia would be expected to return, this remained the most likely location. It was precisely because of this that Cragen had grumbled, admonishing him for inviting trouble when they were already in the thick of things. However, Cragen knew as well as he did that Olivia would have gotten herself there one way or another. Under the circumstances, it was better for her to go with Elliot as her backup than half-cocked on her own, so Cragen had ultimately relented, albeit begrudgingly.

They approached Lara's room and Elliot flashed his badge at the officer seated across from the doorway. He nodded in acknowledgement and leaned back in his chair once more. Although they were better prepared this time for what lay beyond the threshold, it was no less painful to see Lara's tiny, broken form. Olivia was immediately at her side, placing a kiss on her forehead and stroking the hair back from her face. Elliot lingered closer to the doorway, giving her some time.

"Hey baby," she murmured, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I've been away so long. You're being so brave."

Elliot watched from afar, anguish in his expression as he relived the last few seconds of his struggle with Nikolai. He'd _had_ him. If he'd dodged Nikolai's elbow to the throat…if he'd been faster, more focused, he could have prevented this. He should have prevented this.

Olivia lowered herself into the chair at the bedside, taking Lara's hand in between hers. "It's a pretty day outside today. The sun is peeking through the clouds and I think it's trying to come out just for you." She knew that Lara was heavily sedated, but she felt the need to keep talking to her. Lara had spent her entire life being neglected and abused, and Olivia couldn't bear the thought of her lying in an isolated hospital room without some semblance of human interaction. If there was any chance at all that Lara was aware of her presence, she wanted to offer her as much love and reassurance as she could muster. "I've been thinking of you every minute, and I'm so proud of you for working so hard. You're doing such a good job." She ran one of her hands along Lara's arm, once again struck by how frail and malnourished she appeared. "When you're all better I'll bring you some special treats. Cookies and cocoa…whatever you like." Her voice broke as she wondered how long Lara had been in that basement – whether she had ever even tasted a freshly baked cookie, still warm from the oven. She felt Elliot approach to stand behind her, not touching her but offering her some silent support. She cleared her throat, trying to stay positive. "My friend Elliot came to see you, too. He's helping to keep you safe, just like me."

She fell silent, continuing to stroke Lara's arm. A few minutes later there was a soft tap on the door and a nurse entered the room.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I heard you were here and wondered if you had any questions. You're the detective that has called to check on her?" she asked Olivia. "Detective Benson?"

"Olivia," she responded warmly. "Thank you. This is my partner, Detective Stabler."

"Elliot," he said with a smile.

"My name is Colleen. I'm the charge nurse today."

"Any change?" Olivia asked.

"Well, as you can see, she's still medically fragile, but the fact that we haven't had to do any major interventions since the surgery is a good sign."

Olivia nodded.

"We've started to wean her pain meds and she's been tolerating the changes okay. Her sats are good and her vitals have remained stable. She's not out of the woods yet, but the fact that she's come this far is encouraging. She's a fighter." She shrugged. "I wish I could tell you more."

"Thank you for the update," Olivia said.

"It's nice to see her get some visitors," she replied before exiting the room.

Olivia turned back around to Lara, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as the ventilator controlled her breaths. She remembered Lara's beautiful, green eyes and she longed to see her open them again and for her to know that she was finally safe from harm.

"Do you mind if we stay a little while longer?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not," he said, placing a palm on her shoulder.

While the news was the best they could have hoped for, it did nothing to diminish the feelings of regret and culpability that weighed heavily upon them. This time Olivia remained silent, knowing that her tenuous hold on her emotions would break the moment she attempted to speak. Neither she nor Elliot knew how much time had passed when she finally straightened, running her hands through her hair.

"I'll um, I'll be right back," Olivia said hoarsely. "I'm just going to go to the restroom."

"Liv-"

"I'll keep my eyes open," she assured him as she stood, pulling the flap of her coat open to reveal the gun on her hip.

He nodded, stepping aside to allow her to pass and watching as she slipped through the door. Once she had gone he took her place in the chair, pulling Lara's hand in between his own. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. Eventually he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "I uh, I don't know if you can hear me. I know Liv thinks you can." He paused, feeling somewhat self-conscious despite the fact that no one else was present. "I wanted…I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry… I'm sorry if I frightened you back there, and for the things I had to say. I wasn't going to touch you. I would never do anything to hurt you." He clenched his jaw as his anger toward Nikolai overtook him once more. "And I'm…I'm sorry for not doing a better job of stopping him. If I could go back…" he trailed off, his eyes burning. He swiped at the beginnings of a tear with his thumb before replacing his hand on hers and clearing his throat. "Anyway, I uh…I need you to keep fighting. Liv needs you to keep fighting, okay? He's gone. Nobody's ever going to hurt you again."

He rested his elbows on the bed, bringing their joined hands to rest against his lips as he closed his eyes. He prayed. Now was the time to call upon every last bit of faith and hope he had left. She needed to live. Olivia needed for her to live. He placed a kiss on her fingers and gently lowered her hand back to her side. He stood, walking toward the door. He felt the need to wait outside to try to regain his composure. It was too painful to remain in the room, watching Lara's silent struggle. He made his way into the hallway and his brow furrowed. He was met by an empty chair.

"Excuse me, miss?" he addressed the young nurse sifting through a file at the nurse's station. "Where is the officer that was standing guard here?"

"Oh, um, I'm not sure," she replied. "Maybe he went to the bathroom?"

A chill ran down his spine. "Call security," he instructed her. "I need someone up here now."

She nodded back at him with wide eyes. He flipped open his own phone and for the sake of time called Cragen to let him take over the arrangements for additional officers to come to the floor. He ended the call as a security officer approached. Elliot hurriedly checked his ID badge and addressed the nurse once more.

"You know him?"

"Yeah," she said nervously.

"You know him well," he clarified, urgency in his tone.

"Yes."

He turned to the security officer, gesturing to Lara's door. "You don't move from this spot. Nobody goes in or out besides the assigned medical professionals. You hear me?"

"Yes sir."

"Did you see which way my partner went?" he asked the nurse.

"Yeah, I told her…d-down the hall and to the left," she stammered.

Elliot was halfway down the hall before she had finished her sentence.

* * *

Olivia was washing her hands when she heard the bathroom door open followed by slow, heavy footsteps. She immediately turned off the faucet, shaking the excess water from her hands, startling when she saw the reflection of the officer as he came into view. He made no move to approach her, stopping a few feet in front of the door. She continued to face the mirror, addressing him guardedly. "Officer…?"

"Smythe," he replied.

"What are you doing here?"

"Detective Stabler sent me to watch your back."

Like hell.

"He did," she replied, her tone not at all convinced. Her lips lifted into a slight smile, but her eyes flashed a warning. He had something in his hand, but she couldn't make it out. It was small.

"It's not wise to go off on your own right now," he said, beginning to move toward her.

"You don't say," she replied, spinning around to face him as her hand flew to her hip.

He rushed at her then and she caught sight of the object she had been unable to distinguish: a syringe. She brought up her left arm to block the attack, unable to draw her weapon as his firm grip closed around her wrist. They struggled as she used all of her strength to prevent him from stabbing the needle into her flesh. The edge of the counter was jabbing into her back and she was off balance, but she fought back the best way she could and slammed her head forward into his nose. He staggered back, cursing and bringing up a hand to his face, blood dripping down his mouth and chin. She took the opportunity his moment of distraction provided to direct a kick to his arm, her boot connecting with the syringe that flew out of his hand and bounced along the floor into one of the stalls. He came at her again, and she dodged his swing, her fist connecting solidly with his chin. He charged at her, slamming her back against the counter.

"That was a mistake, bitch!" he gritted, his right hand closing around her throat as he bent her backwards.

She clutched at his hand, her legs flailing. She swung upward as hard as she could and her shin collided with his groin. His grip on her loosened and she wriggled out of his grasp, grabbing hold of the paper towel dispenser. She yanked the cover off, using both hands to slam it against the side of his head. She came at him with it a second time, but his arm lashed out and the plastic crashed to the ground. His arm swung out again but his movements were less coordinated and she easily dodged it, slamming her knee into his abdomen. He doubled over and she brought her elbow down hard against his spine causing him to collapse the rest of the way to the ground. She dropped on top of him, jabbing her knee against his back and wrenching his arm behind him. She grabbed his own set of cuffs, slapping the metal around his wrist. When she had both arms restrained she leaned forward and hissed in his ear, "You're the one that made the mistake you piece of shit."

Elliot burst into the room to see her take hold of his head and shove it against the ground one last time for good measure.

She stood, pressing her knee against his spine for leverage and he groaned, coughing and sputtering from the blood that was dribbling from his mouth. Her face was flushed, she was out of breath, and she was pissed as hell.

"Hey," she panted, acknowledging Elliot while she continued to glare at the officer. She was using every last ounce of willpower she had left to resist the temptation of delivering a kick to the man's ribs.

"You okay?" Elliot asked, taking everything in.

"Peachy," she said, brushing the hair back from her face.

Elliot grinned. She had wiped the floor with this guy. Literally. "Sorry it took me so long," he said.

She shook her head, offering him a lopsided smile. "Nah. It felt good to be able to fight back this time… I think I kind of needed it."

Two more officers entered the room. Their backup had arrived.

"Get him out of here," Elliot instructed, watching as they hauled him to his feet and yanked him out of the room. "What happened?" he asked, turning back around to face her.

"He tried to inject me with something." She made her way over to the stalls, peering in each one until she found the syringe on the floor.

"Let's see if we can get some gloves," he replied.

"I'll wait here," she said, moving to sit on the edge of the counter. She needed to catch her breath.

He nodded, leaving the room to return a few minutes later with some latex gloves and a specimen bag from the nurse's station. He retrieved the syringe, carefully sliding the needle into a safety cap before depositing it in the bag. "Jesus," he muttered, looking at the unknown liquid that completely filled the interior.

She hopped down, wincing slightly at the twinge in her back. She reached her hand around to rub it.

"He land any punches?"

"Not really, but the counter did." She turned her head over her shoulder lifting up the back of her shirt, trying to inspect the damage.

"Here, let me see." He approached her and she turned around as he gently ran his index and middle fingers along her spine.

"It's fine, El," she said, trying to ignore the butterflies his touch inevitably awakened. "At this point, what's another bruise?" She lowered her shirt and turned to face him. He kept his hand on her back, his palm flattening against her as he tried to gently rub away some of the ache.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can tell you he's hurting a lot more than you right now." He withdrew his hand, giving her a wink.

"Ain't that a shame," she deadpanned, breaking into a grin as she moved past him toward the door.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the precinct, the officer had already been placed in one of the interrogation rooms. They bypassed their desks and headed straight for Cragen's office. Now that his initial relief had faded, Elliot's anger had returned in full force. He didn't waste any time in getting down to business. "Who the hell is this guy?" he barked, tossing the bag with the syringe onto Cragen's desk.

Cragen ignored the outburst, shifting in his chair to look beyond him and address Olivia who was holding an icepack against her back. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Fine, Cap."

"Officer Richard Smythe," Cragen responded to Elliot's initial question handing him a file. "Been on the force a little over two years. Glowing record. No disciplinary action."

Elliot chuckled bitterly. "Great."

"Let me talk to him, Cap," Olivia requested.

"No," he responded unequivocally. "You're supposed to be taking time."

"Apparently not according to Officer Smythe."

"From the look of him, I think he's seen enough of you today," he responded, giving her a knowing look.

She pursed her lips, cocking an eyebrow as she backed up slightly to lean against the wall.

"I'll talk to him," Elliot said.

Cragen sighed. " _Talk_ to him, Elliot. Understood?"

Elliot's lips curled up into a taut smile. "Of course."

He was out of the door before Cragen had a chance to change his mind. Olivia's eyes flitted up to meet Cragen's and she started to turn and walk away.

"Olivia."

"Yeah, Cap?"

"You okay?" he asked again.

"I'm fine. Really." She flashed him a quick smile that did not meet her eyes.

Cragen studied her quietly for a few moments before nodding. "We'll get this guy."

She nodded, attempting another smile as she headed back into the squad room.

* * *

"Dick!" Elliot called with faux cheerfulness as he barged into the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him.

Smythe startled slightly at the unexpected entrance.

"Man, you know, you don't look so good," Elliot continued, gesturing to his blood encrusted nose and mouth. "Wait." He held up his hand. "Don't tell me… I know this… Oh yeah…" He flattened his palms on the table, crowding him. "You got beat up by a woman." He leaned forward even further, lowering his mouth to hover above his ear. "That's ironic, don't you think, _Dick_? Or is it 'Pussy'?"

Smythe smiled icily, brazenly meeting his gaze. "Fuck you."

Elliot chuckled, clapping a hand on his back. "You know, I wonder how many hits you got in…because I gotta tell ya, compared to you, it looks like she didn't even break a nail." He dug his fingers into his shoulder.

Smythe fought to keep a smile on his face, but the tendon popped out along his jaw.

"So, I have to wonder, why would Petrov choose a pansy like you to do his dirty work for him, huh?"

Smythe smirked in response. "Who?" he asked disinterestedly.

Elliot pushed himself back as if he were planning to walk away, but then whirled back around and forcibly shoved Smythe's head onto the table, pinning it there. "What the hell were you going to inject her with you son of a bitch?"

Smythe laughed through his grimace, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Elliot increased the pressure, his hand shaking from the strain.

Fin rushed in the room. "Elliot, enough, man."

Elliot released his hold on him long enough for Fin to think that he was backing off, but then grabbed Smythe by the collar, pushing him backward until his chair crashed to the ground. He lifted him up and slammed him back down again, bashing his head against the floor. "What the hell does he want with her?"

"Elliot!" Fin tried in vain to hold him back.

"Where is he?"

Smythe continued to laugh.

Cragen burst in the room and together with Fin succeeded in pulling Elliot off of him, dragging him to the door.

Smythe tilted his head back to watch. "You won't stop him," he called after him. "He's going to take her. It's just a matter of time!"

Fin slammed the door, effectively silencing the threats.

Elliot wrenched himself free from their grasp, his face and neck red with rage.

"My office, _now_ ," Cragen gritted.

Elliot stalked toward the office, pacing back and forth once he arrived, his hands clenched into fists.

Cragen shut the door behind them. He said nothing initially, merely making his way to the opposite side of his desk and lowering himself into his chair. "Detective, as of this moment, you are officially off of this case."

"Cap!"

"I should have pulled you after the undercover op. You're too close to this, Elliot."

His eyes narrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Look," Elliot tried to backtrack, "I'll stay away from Smythe-"

"Save it." Cragen held up his hand. "As of now you're on leave."

"Cap, you heard the bastard. Petrov isn't going to stop."

"And I have everyone working around the clock to find him. You need a job to do? Watch her back – and yours."

Elliot sighed.

"I won't keep you in the dark. We get anything, I'll call you."

Elliot flung open the door and stormed off in search of Olivia. He eventually found her behind the two-way mirror, her forehead resting against the glass as she stared at Smythe.

"You got yourself thrown off of this, didn't you," she said.

It wasn't a question. She already knew the answer, so he didn't give her one.

"How long were you here?"

She lifted her head from the glass and turned to face him with a weary expression. "Long enough."

He nodded. She had heard the threats. His anger dissipated as soon as he heard the fatigue in her tone. "C'mon. Let's get out of here. I'll make you dinner."

That caught her off guard and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Something funny?"

She walked toward him, tossing the now melted icepack in the trash. "You…making dinner. Unless you mean picking up take-out."

"Alright, Benson. We'll see who has the last laugh."

He put his hand on the back of her neck, tugging her gently toward the door.

* * *

An hour later she found herself sitting on his counter to the right of the stove as she watched him unpack groceries and move about the kitchen. She had barely spoken two words to him since they left the precinct, so completely taken aback was she at the prospect of Elliot Stabler cooking something from scratch. She had followed him up and down the aisles at the supermarket, watching as he confidently grabbed ingredients from the shelves – ingredients that did not come from the frozen food section. She must have been looking at him strangely because he had laughed at one point, hooking his arm around her neck and assuring her that he wasn't going to poison her.

"Are you ever going to stop looking at me like that?" he asked, bringing her back to the present.

"Like what?"

"Like I might make the kitchen explode or something."

She chuckled. "So are you ever going to tell me what you're making?"

"Hmm…" he said, opening a bottle of red wine. "You're a detective, I thought you'd have figured it out by now."

"You're forgetting that _I_ don't cook. I order in…like I thought you did."

He smiled. "You know I order in, but I _am_ capable of making a few things."

"Such as?" The curiosity was killing her.

He pulled a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard, setting them on the counter. "Such as penne alla vodka," he replied, shooting her a glance over his shoulder as he filled them.

Her face lit up. "That's my favorite."

He approached her, a glass of wine in each hand. "I know," he said quietly, extending a glass toward her as he held her gaze.

She took it from him, suddenly feeling warm and dropping her gaze to focus on the crimson liquid instead.

"Cheers," he said, clinking his glass against hers.

"Cheers," she murmured, feeling a bit as though she were in an episode of the _Twilight_ _Zone_. In her mind, Elliot Stabler was associated with beer, take-out, and the occasional drink at a bar, not with wine, cooking, and a relaxing evening at home.

Shit.

She'd just thought of Elliot's apartment as "home." She took two large gulps of her wine. _"Great,_ _Olivia,_ _"_ she chastised herself. _"_ _That_ _only_ _took_ _you_ _what,_ _twenty-four_ _hours?"_

She watched as he put water on to boil and set about preparing the vodka sauce. Paradoxically, the more time she spent with him, the more she was struck by a feeling of loneliness. His apartment was cozy and warm, and she found herself longing to remain there for as long as he would have her, imagining what it would be like to come home to him every night – to fall asleep safely wrapped up in his arms. Yet the more that she allowed herself to envision this life, the more painful it became when she reminded herself of the reality that awaited her – when the case was resolved and she would be faced with the prospect of returning to her empty apartment with only her memories to fill the void.

The more she allowed her thoughts to consume her, the more her sadness began to transform into frustration. This was exactly why she had tried to put distance between them – exactly why she had returned to her apartment the day before with every intention of forcing herself to fall back into her regular routine. Instead, Petrov decided to break into her building and obstruct her attempts at regaining her independence. Instead, she was playing house with her partner, pining after him like some love-struck teenager. She knew the longer she stayed with Elliot, the harder it would become to detach herself from these feelings.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand lightly coming to rest on her forearm. "Where'd you go? You haven't said a word in ages."

"Sorry," she replied, staring at his hand.

He moved back to the stove, putting a small amount of sauce on a spoon and carefully bringing it to her, holding his left hand beneath it. "Here, try some."

She hesitated.

"I promise it isn't toxic," he teased.

He made no move to hand her the spoon, so she leaned forward, tasting it as he held it.

She raised her eyebrows. "Wow," she said as she leaned back again. "El, it's delicious."

He laughed. "Don't sound so surprised. I'm starting to get offended." He put another small amount on the spoon to try it himself. He nodded. "It's getting there. Want another bite?"

"I won't turn it down."

He smiled, bringing her another spoonful. He couldn't help but watch her mouth as she tasted it. "So, uh, what's the verdict? You gonna laugh at me the next time I offer to cook for you?" He cocked an eyebrow.

She smirked. "Not if you make this again…or another one of your grilled cheese sandwiches."

"Oh I see how it is," he said returning to stir the sauce. "Stick with me long enough, Benson, and I'll prove myself in the kitchen."

Just like that another pang of sadness claimed her. Why did he have to say things like that? It only made things harder. She took another sip of her wine and closed her eyes as she willed her mind to stop thinking.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" he asked, noticing her shift in demeanor.

"I'm fine, El."

"You never took anything today. You want some Advil?"

He was looking at her with concern in his eyes and she couldn't take it anymore.

"Liv?" he asked, becoming more worried at her silence.

"El, I can't keep doing this," she blurted out.

"Keep doing what?"

" _This_. Staying here."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, her frustration mounting.

"Because?" he held out the word.

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Because it's just…it's too confusing."

"What is?"

His tone was both gentle and patient, and it only served to fuel her frustration. She was convinced that were it not for her bruises that remained glaringly apparent, he would be getting frustrated right back at her. "Dammit, El. Just _stop_ ," she snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Stop treating me like a victim."

He fought to suppress his smile. "This isn't me treating you like a victim, Liv."

"Then what the hell is it?"

He approached her slowly, removing the glass from her hand and setting it aside.

Her eyes widened to almost comically large proportions. "What are you doing?"

"Proving my point." He placed his hands on the counter on either side of her, his thighs brushing against her shins.

"W-what do you mean?"

"Did it ever occur to you that you're just used to me treating you like a cop?"

"I am a cop," she said nervously.

He extended his hand toward her as he leaned forward, trailing his fingers down her arm. "You're not just a cop, Liv," he murmured into her ear.

She shivered, her eyes fluttering closed. "El…"

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. He brought his left hand up, brushing the hair back from her face and cupping her cheek in his palm as he gently traced her eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. He skimmed his lips higher, stopping to place another kiss in the center of her forehead as he brought his right hand to mirror his left. He removed his lips, tilting his forehead to rest against hers. She was trembling and he was giving her time.

"What are you doing?" she asked again, her voice small.

He had never heard her sound so vulnerable. "Trying to tell you something." He stroked his index finger down her cheek, tucking it beneath her chin as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. "If you'll let me?"

Her hands were shaking so hard in her lap that she had to tuck them between her thighs. "Let you what?"

"Let me love you…"

She was breathing so rapidly her entire body was tingling. He moved slowly, giving her ample time to stop him if this was not what she wanted. He placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, raking his fingers through her hair as he gently tipped her head back. When she did not pull away he brushed his lips against hers ever so lightly, her breath mixing with his own.

She whimpered at the contact, fairly certain that he was the only thing holding her steady.

"Shh," he soothed, and then his mouth was covering hers, soft but firm, communicating more than words ever could.

For a long moment everything faded into the background and all that she was left with was the sensation of his lips on hers, his hands in her hair. He directed the kiss slowly. It was not about possession or dominance. There was no sense of urgency. In as much as he had led them down this road, in essence he was following her lead, focused solely on her cues and his desire to convey the depths of his feelings for her in his gentle caresses. It was only when she softly moaned against him, opening herself up to him more fully that he allowed himself to taste her, his tongue seeking entrance and brushing against hers so reverently that something broke inside of her. She was overcome by a flood of conflicting emotions – love and hope dueling with doubt and fear. She raised her hands, clutching onto his shirt in a desperate attempt to try to ground herself. The more she tried to keep the panic at bay, the more it seemed to engulf her, until the fear finally overtook her and tears rolled down her cheeks. She attempted to suppress a sob, but he felt her jerk against him at the same time that her tears dampened his skin and he broke away.

"Hey," he whispered, cupping her face in his hands and brushing his thumbs over her tears. "Liv, look at me.'

She shook her head as two more silent tears escaped.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, running his fingers through her hair. "Talk to me. What's going on in that head of yours?"

She sniffed, forcing herself to let go of his shirt and bringing her arms to wrap around her middle instead. "El, you don't want this. Not really."

"Why do you think that?"

She bowed her head, her eyes opening to stare at her knees. "You're just feeling guilty," she rationalized.

"Liv-"

"El, I know you. You take care of people." Her throat was tight and she struggled to get out the words. "You've been taking care of me ever since…ever since Nikolai."

"Olivia-"

"No," she cut him off, her voice small and sadness permeating her tone. "The bruises will fade, time will pass, and all you'll have left is the same old me."

"The same old you, huh? And what makes you think I don't want that?"

She let out a defeated laugh before falling silent. When she finally spoke again, he could barely hear her. "Because you never have."

His heart broke. "Liv, that's never been the problem." He slid his hands from her hair and took hold of hers, lightly tugging on them until she allowed him to bring them forward to rest on her knees. He pointedly splayed the fingers of his left hand, covering both of hers with his palm.

She bit her lip.

"Are you hearing me?'

She sighed with fatigue. "El, you went back to her."

"Not all of me," he said quietly. Several long moments passed before he spoke again. He cleared his throat. "God knows I'm not perfect. I, uh…I seem to do a damn good job of hurting the people I care about. I just…I'm asking you to trust me." He hesitated for a moment and then gingerly turned her palms over, passing his thumbs over the bruises on her wrists. "I don't know that I have the right to ask this of you," he rasped.

She finally looked up at him, but his focus was trained on the marks. She slipped her right hand from his and rested her palm against his cheek. "I trust you, El. I do. I just...I need you to be sure, because I can't-" her voice broke and she hastily pulled her hand away, folding her arms across her chest in a protective gesture as she dropped her gaze once more.

"You can't what, Liv?" He placed his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling again.

"I can't lose you, El," she whispered. "I would rather have you as a partner than have you wake up when this case is over and not…and not want me anymore."

"Oh, Liv," he breathed, pulling her toward him and cradling her head against his chest. "Is that what you think? You think I'm just feeling this way because of the case?"

She nodded against him, her throat tight.

"Liv, I've had these feelings for a hell of a lot longer than that." He placed a kiss on the top of her head, pulling her even more tightly against him. "I won't hurt you," he murmured. He stroked the side of her face and felt the moisture that coated her cheek. He pulled back, coaxing her to face him though her eyes remained closed. "God knows I've already caused you enough pain." He brushed her tears away. "I would give anything for the chance to take some away." He bent forward, kissing her forehead once more. "Please don't cry."

He was framing her face with his hands, and she gripped onto his wrists as if she were worried that she was dreaming and that he would disappear if he pulled away.

"Liv, please open your eyes... You're hiding again, and I'm trying to tell you I'm in love with you."

She smiled, tears streaming down her face, but this time they were tears of joy. She opened her eyes to see him smiling back down at her.

"Did you get that?" he asked.

She half laughed, half cried, beads of moisture clinging to her lashes as she nodded up at him. "I think so."

He held her gaze and slowly closed the distance between them, and this time she met him halfway, their mouths joining in a kiss that hovered somewhere between passion and tender exploration. She slid her hands from his wrists to his jaw, holding him to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she parted her legs, allowing him to slide her to the edge of the counter until she was pressed against him. There was no intent to progress things beyond a kiss, only to be closer to her. He snaked his other arm around her, cradling the back of her head in his palm. Nothing had ever felt more right. They tried to breathe in each other's air, neither wanting to break the connection that had taken years to establish. Eventually their need for oxygen prevailed and they broke apart, resting their foreheads against one another. Olivia slipped her hands around the back of his neck, placing a light kiss on his lips and gently nuzzling his nose before resting her cheek against his and wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her closer, his hand tangling in her hair as he held her more securely against him with the arm that encircled her waist. They clung to each other, their breathing gradually returning to normal.

Elliot turned into her, gently brushing his lips over her temple before moving them over her ear. "Did you get _that_?" he repeated, running his fingers through her hair.

She breathed a quiet laugh. "No?" she asked playfully after a pause.

Elliot laughed in earnest, pulling back to look at her, his eyes twinkling. "Hmm… I guess I'll have to work on my communication skills."

Olivia practically snorted. That had only taken a decade to hear. "Can I quote you on that?"

His eyes narrowed in faux annoyance. "Funny," he deadpanned.

"Sorry," she replied with a glint in her eye.

She placed a palm on his cheek and leaned forward, brushing her lips across his. She pulled back to meet his gaze and the look in her eyes was tentative again – as if she were still not quite sure that she had the right to do so. Elliot silenced her doubts, gently framing her face with his hands and lowering his head to capture her lips once more. He straightened, affectionately sweeping his eyes over her face.

"Hold that thought," he said, reluctantly moving away to tend to the stove.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no! Is it ruined?"

He chuckled at her reaction. "Liv, for starters, the sauce is the last thing on my mind right now…" He winked at her. "But to answer your question, it's fine. I had the heat on low." He reached for the box of penne, pouring the contents into what was most definitely a rolling boil. "We have about ten minutes or so before this is ready if you want to change into those sweats of yours."

"I'm okay."

"No?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

She shook her head.

"Why not? You may as well get comfortable."

She shrugged. "I'm comfortable right here."

The truth was that on some level she was scared to walk away – as if she would return to find that she had imagined the whole thing. She knew that it was an irrational fear, but after so many years of heartache, the idea that Elliot shared her feelings seemed too good to be true.

He studied her quietly for a few moments, considering her response.

She fidgeted under his silent scrutiny, dropping her gaze to stare at her hands. He was looking at her as if he could see right through her. It made her nervous.

He returned to stand in front of her, using both hands to brush the hair back from her face and placing a kiss on the crown of her head. "Olivia…" he gently admonished.

"What?"

He said nothing, continuing to run his fingers through her hair as he tilted her head up so that she met his gaze.

" _What?"_ she repeated somewhat defensively.

His eyes held hers, unwavering and kind. "I'm not going anywhere, Liv," he said softly.

She flushed. "I know that."

He bent forward, kissing her gently and pulling back to look at her once more. "No…you don't. But I need you to."

He slipped his hands from her hair, running them down her arms. His eyes flashed mischievously and he leaned into her again. "Go…get…changed," he instructed, punctuating each word with a kiss.

She smiled against his lips. "Damn you're bossy, Stabler."

He grinned back at her. "Guilty as charged." He tugged on her hands, backing up to give her the space to hop down from the counter.

She attempted a glare, but it lost most of its power on account of the smile plastered on her face. She walked past him toward the hallway. "And stop looking at my ass," she called before she disappeared from view.

He chuckled, rubbing a hand along his jaw as he turned back to the stove. "Guilty as charged," he said under his breath.

* * *

She returned to find Elliot in the process of serving. She leaned against the fridge.

"Hey," he smiled. "How hungry are you?"

"Starved." She grinned.

"Good."

He doled out a heaping portion for each of them, carrying the plates to the living room while Olivia brought in their glasses of wine. She went back to the kitchen in search of napkins and forks, finding the silverware in the second drawer she tried. She was in the process of retrieving them when she felt Elliot behind her, his arms snaking around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder and she leaned her head back against him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people when there's cutlery involved," she teased.

"Couldn't resist," he rumbled against her temple. "It's hard to let you go."

She shivered. The butterflies were back with a vengeance. He started to release her and she halted his movements with a hand on his arm. "I wasn't complaining," she breathed.

He smiled, hugging her more tightly against him as he rocked them slightly from side to side. "Food's going to get cold," he said, kissing her neck.

"I'm not hungry."

He laughed. "Yes you are."

She groaned. "Okay, I am."

He pulled away but kept a palm on her back. "Comes from beating the crap out of a perp twice your size." He placed another quick kiss on the side of her head, reaching around her to grab the bottle of wine.

They made their way back into the living room, taking a seat on the floor. They ate in silence, hunger taking over. Eventually Olivia put her fork down, leaning back against the futon.

"Oh my God, I'm so full," she sighed. "El, that was delicious."

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, his hand finding hers and giving it a quick squeeze before moving to carry their plates to the kitchen.

She pushed herself up to sit on the futon, curling one leg beneath her as she reached to take a sip of her wine. She set the glass back on the table, leaning her head back against the futon as she looked up at the ceiling. She felt drowsy – undoubtedly from a combination of the wine and the events of the day.

"Mind if I join you?"

She lifted her head. "I'll mind if you don't."

He smiled, sitting beside her and slipping his arm around her shoulders. After a brief hesitation, she curled up against him, resting her palm on his chest and her head on his shoulder. He brought his other hand to stroke the side of her face, holding her to him.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm, um…trying to get used to this."

He nodded.

"It's nice."

He smiled. "Yeah, it is."

She was silent for a few moments, her fingers absently running along a wrinkle in his shirt. "And a little terrifying," she added quietly.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and pulling her more closely against him. He placed a kiss on her hairline. "Anything I can do about that?" he murmured against her.

She shook her head. "No." She wrapped her arm around his chest, holding onto him more tightly. She closed her eyes, her mind once again steadily chipping away at the tenuous sense of security he had created. As the minutes stretched on, her fears intensified until she had to voice them. "El?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure that you're sure?"

He smiled. "Positive."

"I just…last night…what I told you…about what I wanted… I didn't mean to tell you that."

"I know, but I'm glad you did."

"I just… I don't want you to feel obligated because of that."

Her breathing had quickened and he wished he could figure out a way to reassure her once and for all. "Liv, I pushed you last night, and you were honest with me about a lot of things. I needed to be honest with you." He ran his hand along her arm. "I wanted to tell you last night."

"Why didn't you?"

He breathed a laugh through his nose. "I was afraid you'd think what you're thinking now."

"And this morning?"

He spoke through his smile. "I was afraid you'd think I was trying to cop a feel."

She chuckled. "And tonight?"

His hand stilled and his tone fell serious. "I couldn't bear the thought of you beating yourself up inside, convincing yourself that I didn't want you." He kissed the side of her head once more and then froze, suddenly realizing how his words might have come across. "I-I didn't mean-"

She tilted her head back and smiled up at him in amusement. "Relax, El. I know what you meant."

He nodded, lightly tucking his finger beneath her chin as he brushed his lips over hers. He pulled back with an impish sparkle in his eye. "Which isn't to say that I _don_ _'_ _t_ wan-"

She thwacked him on the arm. "Watch it, Stabler."

He held her gaze, the playfulness slowly evaporating from his expression. His lips descended upon hers again, slowly and lovingly teasing her mouth open and tasting her as she brought her palm to his cheek. He sifted his fingers through her hair, caressing her ear with his thumb and she shivered, moving her hand to play with the short hairs along the back of his neck. He was holding them back, controlling the pace out of the need to try to convey his feelings. He needed her to _kno_ _w_. He needed to show her all that he had been forced to mask at the club. She began to tremble against him, overwhelmed by the love and tenderness he was showing her. No one had ever kissed her this way – gently, lovingly, without any expectations or ulterior motives. She knew that she couldn't delude herself anymore; he had broken through all of her defenses and she had let him in completely. She was frightened by the intensity of the feelings he had awakened within her, and as much as his affection made her heart soar, she was petrified by the realization of the extent of her need for him. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wasn't sure which of the many powerful emotions coursing through her was responsible for it. He raised his head, cupping her face in his hands. He brushed the moisture away with the pad of his thumb, pure understanding in his gaze. He reached around to guide her legs across his, pulling her onto his lap. Her eyes were large and open, love and fear and need swirling amongst unshed tears.

"El-" she said huskily, her hands shaking as she curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt. Her face was flushed and she bit her lip, afraid that she would scare him off if he knew the truth about how strongly she felt about him. Panic flitted across her features and she closed her eyes, gripping onto him more tightly.

"Liv," he urged, bringing his hands back up to frame her face. He waited for her to reopen her eyes. "I know."

He kissed her lips, her cheek, her temple, enveloping her in his arms as he pulled her into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he stroked her hair.

"Me too, Liv," he whispered.

They held each other for an indeterminable amount of time, both reveling in a feeling of contentment that neither had ever experienced so completely. Olivia was growing more relaxed against him with every passing minute. She knew it was still relatively early in the evening, but it might as well have been the middle of the night. She half-heartedly started to pull away from him.

"Stay," he coaxed.

"El, I refuse to fall asleep on you again."

"But I like it when you sleep on me."

"It's too early for bed anyway."

He chuckled. "I seem to recall hearing that from you before, and you lasted all of about ten minutes."

"Hmnph."

This time when she pulled away he allowed her to slide herself from his lap back onto the futon. She didn't stray far, tucking her knees into her chest and tilting her head to rest it on his shoulder.

"How about we compromise?" he asked.

"How so?"

"One sec," he told her, kissing her forehead and going to retrieve the remote for the TV. When he returned he took a spot at the far end of the futon leaving a large gap in between them.

Her brow furrowed. "I don't think I like this compromise," she grumbled.

He smiled, pulling a pillow on top of his lap and extending his hand toward her.

She rolled her eyes but scooted toward him and curled up on her side resting her head on the pillow. "And how, exactly, is this a compromise?"

" _If_ you should happen to fall asleep, technically it wouldn't be on me."

She laughed. "You're something else, you know that?"

He handed her the remote, running his fingers through her hair. "Your choice."

She started to flip through the channels. "I dunno. What do you want to watch?"

"You."

She smiled. "I don't know how interesting that'll be. You keep playing with my hair like that, and I most likely _will_ fall asleep within ten minutes."

"Good to know." He continued the motion of his hand, chuckling when she put down the remote. "Liv, there's no way you want to watch football."

"How do you know?"

He leaned over her and kissed her temple. "Well, for one thing, it's hard to watch with your eyes closed."

"Not my fault," she said, shivering as he lightly raked his fingernails over her scalp.

Elliot smiled, enjoying the fact that his actions were having this effect on her. The ability to be physically affectionate with one another was uncharted territory, and he was looking forward to having the chance to get to know this side of her. Only rarely had he gotten a glimpse of her with her guard down so completely, and the fact that she was allowing herself to be vulnerable – placing her trust in his hands despite everything he had put her through – meant more to him than she would ever know.

"El?" she murmured sleepily.

"Yeah?"

"Promise me I didn't dream this."

"I promise you, Liv."

Her head grew heavier and he reached over with his other hand to mute the TV. He considered turning it off completely, but decided against it. He had no intention of watching, but knew that it would make Olivia feel more comfortable if she thought that the focus was off of her. He propped his legs up on the coffee table, and looked down at her sleeping form. A few days ago he thought that he had shattered their relationship beyond the point of repair. The idea that he had been granted the chance to set things right was unfathomable. He knew that the road toward healing would not be a simple one, and that they would carry the emotional scars with them no matter how much time passed. Yet as he watched her, he felt hopeful for the first time in ages. Perhaps they could make it through this after all.


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter Note:_

 _One of my readers (AKLBanana) once told me that she initially didn't want to read the story because she was not an E/O-shipper. For whatever reason, she decided to give BP a chance, and then spent a lot of reviews being jokingly irritated with me for making her want El and Liv to get together after all (at least in the BP universe)._

 _This chapter is still a bit focused on the E/O development, but I promise that case action is right around the corner for those of you who aren't shippers and just want to get back to business._

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Elliot had barely glanced up at the TV since she had fallen asleep. He tried to remain still, doing his best not to disturb her, but every so often he couldn't resist slipping his fingers through her hair or caressing the side of her cheek, needing the tactile reassurance that she wasn't a figment of his imagination. While the silence leant itself to a general feeling of stillness, it did nothing to change the fact that his mind continued to work on overdrive, continually flitting between extremes of emotions. He thought back to their arrival at the club, prior to the events that would forever haunt them – when the roles that they had to play seemed clearly defined, the boundary between fiction and reality still distinguishable despite the fear that pervaded the atmosphere. He had been harsh with her, but had not yet caused her any pain. Boundaries had been crossed – he had touched her, kissed her – but with an implicit understanding that these lines of consent had already been agreed upon long before they had set foot in that hell hole. Even then he had felt guilty, knowing that a part of him was enjoying the temporary ability to act upon feelings that had long been a part of his awareness, despite his ongoing attempts to convince himself to the contrary. He'd felt guilty but safe in the knowledge that she would be okay…that is, until they were locked in that room.

He thought back to the night that they had taken the photographs – to the flashback that had brought about the first real conversation they had had about Sealview. He wished that she had been able to disclose everything to him then, instead of feeling the need to continue to hide the extent of her assault from him. Now, knowing what he did, he was even more in awe of her courage. What must it have taken for her to agree to the undercover assignment? He would give anything to be able to go back in time to that night at her apartment, when the photographs themselves were the biggest violation they had weathered.

He sighed, glancing up at the TV. The football game had ended and the network was broadcasting the 11:00pm news. He reached for the remote control, intending to turn it off, when an exterior shot of an all too familiar hospital appeared on screen. His brow furrowed and he raised the volume.

"… _reporting_ _to_ _you_ _from_ _outside_ _of_ _Westchester_ _Medical_ _Center_ _where_ _earlier_ _today_ _a_ _Manhattan_ _SVU_ _detective_ _is_ _said_ _to_ _have_ _been_ _attacked._ _The_ _detective,_ _a_ _female,_ _was_ _reportedly_ _visiting_ _a_ _patient_ _in_ _the_ _pediatric_ _intensive_ _care_ _unit._ _Currently_ _no_ _information_ _has_ _been_ _given_ _regarding_ _the_ _condition_ _of_ _the_ _detective,_ _but_ _there_ _are_ _unconfirmed_ _reports_ _that_ _an_ _arrest_ _has_ _been_ _made._ _Ca_ _l_ _ls_ _to_ _Manhattan_ _SVU_ _have_ _not_ _yet_ _been_ _returned._ _A_ _lso,_ _a_ _source_ _has_ _informed_ _us_ _that_ _there_ _has_ _been_ _an_ _ongoing_ _police_ _presence_ _at_ _the_ _medical_ _center_ _over_ _the_ _past_ _few_ _days._ _It_ _is_ _unclear_ _whether_ _the_ _attack_ _is_ _related,_ _but_ _our_ _source,_ _who_ _spoke_ _on_ _the_ _condition_ _of_ _anonymity,_ _did_ _indicate_ _that_ _a_ _young_ _girl_ _was_ _airlifted_ _to_ _the_ _medical_ _center_ _in_ _critical_ _condition_ _late_ _Saturday_ _night_ _following_ _an_ _apparent_ _gunshot_ _wound._ _No_ _f_ _urther_ _details_ _have_ _been_ _given_ _at_ _this_ _time,_ _but_ _we_ _will_ _continue_ _to_ _bring_ _you_ _updates_ _as_ _they_ _are_ _made_ _available…"_

Elliot turned off the TV, carefully sliding out from beneath Olivia and setting her head down gently on the cushion. She stirred but did not awaken. He picked up his cell phone, making his way into the kitchen to call Cragen.

"Cap-"

" _I_ _know._ _We_ _have_ _been_ _fielding_ _calls_ _left_ _and_ _right."_

"Any idea who leaked this?"

" _We_ _re_ _looking_ _into_ _it,_ _but_ _it_ _doesn'_ _t_ _change_ _anything._ _Smythe_ _had_ _ample_ _opportunities_ _to_ _get_ _to_ _Lara_ _and_ _he_ _never_ _made_ _a_ _move._ _We_ _re_ _keeping_ _a_ _detail_ _on_ _her,_ _but-_

Elliot rubbed his forehead wearily. "But you think Petrov's gunning for Liv."

Cragen sighed. _I_ _think_ _if_ _he_ _wanted_ _Lara_ _dead_ _he_ _would_ _have_ _made_ _a_ _move_ _by_ _now._ _I_ _ll_ _keep_ _you_ _posted."_

"Thanks."

He snapped his phone shut, angrily sliding it across the counter. He wanted this damn nightmare to be over. He flattened his palms against the wood, tilting his head forward to rest against the cabinet. He wanted to take Olivia away from here. He wanted to put her in the car and keep driving for miles and miles until he was sure she was out of harm's way.

"El," her soft voice sounded from beyond his shoulder.

He took a deep breath before turning to face her. He leaned back against the counter, his hands gripping the edge so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

His eyes were stormy and anyone else would have given him a wide berth – waiting for him to calm down, but not Olivia.

"What's going on?" she asked, the sleep still evident in her features.

"Someone leaked information to the media," he replied flatly.

"About Lara?"

He nodded. "And your attack today."

Her eyes swept over him, reading the tightly coiled anger in his body language and facial expression. "Specifics?"

"No. No names. Not yet," he added bitterly.

She approached him slowly, her hands lightly coming to rest on his sides. "It was only a matter of time," she murmured, leaning into him and brushing her lips against his neck.

His eyes drifted closed and he felt her hands lift from his waist to gently curl around his forearms, sliding down to his wrists and smoothing over the backs of his hands as she coaxed them to relax their grip on the counter.

He sighed. "They're already digging."

"Let them dig," she countered, calmly ignoring his glare of disapproval. "Maybe they'll dig up something we can use." She took a final step toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist and molding her body to his.

He exhaled, feeling the tension start to leave his body. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he mumbled into the top of her head, his hands lifting to sift through her hair.

She smiled against his shoulder. "You're telling me I could have won all of those arguments over the years just by giving you a hug?" she teased.

"Don't get cocky, Benson." He pulled back to meet her gaze, his eyes sparkling dangerously. "You just might find that I have other ways of winning arguments."

Her eyes widened the slightest bit, unprepared for the suggestive remark. She opened her mouth to try to come up with some sort of retort but she was flustered and nothing came to mind.

He grinned. "You're telling me I could have rendered you speechless all of these years just by making you blush?"

This time she was prepared. She leaned into him, her breasts brushing against his chest and her lips hovering millimeters from his. "That's not the only way to render me speechless, Stabler," she purred.

His mouth ran dry.

She cocked her head to gauge his reaction and chuckled, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Turnabout's fair play, El."

"I'll keep that in mind," he recovered, arching a brow.

"You still need to pummel something? Or are you ready for bed?"

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling down at her affectionately. "I'm fine. Just give me a sec to change."

Just like that the bravado fell away, and he glimpsed a trace of shyness in her expression. Everything had changed in the course of an evening, and the newness of it all meant that they were suddenly faced with a lot of unknowns.

"Okay. I'll, um… I'll just go brush my teeth."

He nodded, watching as she turned and disappeared around the corner.

* * *

When she emerged from the bathroom, Elliot had changed into sweatpants and an undershirt and had already finished his nightly routine of checking the locks on the windows and front door. He was standing in the darkened kitchen, illuminated only by the small light emanating from above the stove, a bottle of water to his lips. He finished a swallow as she entered, wiping the moisture from his mouth on the back of his arm before extending the bottle in her direction. "You thirsty?"

She blinked. It was a simple gesture, but something about the timbre of his voice and the sight of him standing there in the shadows made her heart skip a beat.

"Nah, I'm okay. Thanks."

He took another couple of sips from the bottle before replacing it in the fridge and turning toward her. "You're sure you don't want anything?"

'Yeah, El. I'm fine."

He nodded and turned off the light above the stove, leaving them in darkness. They made their way down the hallway in silence, Elliot following a few paces behind her.

When they entered his room, Olivia froze, suddenly gripped by a fresh wave of anxiety. Her palms were sweaty and her heart rate had quickened and she was acutely aware of the fact that they were alone, in his bedroom, when touching one another – being with one another – was suddenly no longer off limits.

"Liv."

She jumped slightly, his voice indicating he was standing just behind her. She didn't turn around. 'Yeah?"

He cautiously closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and placing a soft kiss on her temple. "Liv, you don't have to be afraid of me."

"El, no. It's…it's not you." God what was wrong with her? It was Elliot. He wouldn't push her. "I'm sorry." She brought up her hands, holding onto his arms.

"Shh, don't be."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

"Liv, we'll take this one day at a time."

To add to her confusion, the feel of his breath on her ear was sending shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with fear. If anything, it was making it increasingly difficult to remember exactly why she had been afraid to begin with. "Okay." She leaned her head back against him, turning into his neck. She breathed in his scent and was reminded of when she had sought comfort in the same manner when they had been trapped in that room.

He wrapped his arms around her more tightly. "Tell me what you need," he said softly.

She exhaled shakily, nuzzling her nose against him. "I wish I knew."

Elliot felt the rise and fall of her chest beneath his arms and he, too, was reminded of when he had been forced to restrain her, pinning her against him and pushing his fingers inside of her while Nikolai laughed at her cries of protest. He swallowed at the recollection. The position of their bodies was hauntingly similar, and although he was holding her in an embrace and not against her will, he was suddenly overcome by the overwhelming need to face her. He needed to be able to see her – to reassure himself that the tears were in his memory and not in her eyes. He relaxed his hold on her and started to pull back, but she tightened her grip on his arm.

"Liv, I uh…" He stopped to clear his throat, cursing the traces of emotion in his voice.

She heard the hesitancy in his tone and was immediately flooded by another wave of the nagging insecurities that continued to churn in her mind. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied quietly, once again wrapping his arms around her more securely to reassure her that he was not going anywhere. _Nothing,"_ he emphasized, the change in Olivia's breathing betraying her internal panic. He slid his hand up along the column of her throat, his thumb caressing her jaw line. "I just…can you turn around?"

She pivoted in his arms, her eyes searching his. She saw the love in his expression, but also pain. "El," she said tentatively. "What is it?"

He brushed the hair back from her face, gazing at her for a long moment before enfolding her into an almost crushing embrace. The longer he held her, the more he struggled to reconcile the relief he felt at being able to do so with the remorse he felt at having put her through such hell. He bowed his head, burying his nose in her hair, his breathing ragged. Olivia wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to offer him some silent support. Several minutes passed and still he said nothing.

"El, talk to me," she coaxed, her voice muffled as she spoke against him.

He loosened his hold, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "My uh…my mind doesn't always go to the nicest places."

"Glad it's not just me."

He breathed a defeated laugh. "No, it's not just you."

She ran her hands along the planes of his back. "Where did it go this time?"

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled after a pause.

She pulled back slightly, tilting her head up in attempts to meet his gaze. "It matters to me," she said softly.

He offered her a sad smile. "I know." He lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips across hers.

As he pulled back, she arched a brow. "Is this gonna be your new way of avoiding things?"

He chuckled. "That depends... Is it working?"

She narrowed her eyes, her hands loosely settling on his waist. "No."

He sighed, his expression darkening as his eyes focused on her collarbone. "Mind if I get a pass just this once?"

Her brow furrowed in concern. "Okay," she said gently. She slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles there and at the base of his neck before drawing her palms back down his arms. "Come here," she murmured with an incline of her head, lightly squeezing his biceps as she took a step backward toward the bed.

He allowed her to lead him, releasing her enough to permit her to maneuver but not once severing their physical contact. She tugged on his hand as she slid under the covers, guiding him toward her and cradling his head against her shoulder.

He exhaled, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Isn't this a bit backward?" he managed around the lump in his throat.

She rubbed her cheek against the top of his head, understanding how hard it must be for him to step outside of the role of caretaker. "El, this works both ways."

"I know. I just…after everything I put you through, it doesn't feel right for you to be taking care of _me_."

"Elliot, I know more than anyone how hard it was for you to have to become that man."

"It doesn't compare," he said gruffly.

She fell silent for a moment, considering his response, and when she spoke, her words sucked the air from his lungs. "You're right," she said quietly.

He froze.

"I think what you went through was worse," she continued.

He lifted his head from her shoulder, propping himself up on his forearm. "What are you _talking_ about?" he asked incredulously.

"El, you've devoted your life to taking down perps like Nikolai – to protecting people from them. To have had to join with him? To have had to say and do things that go against everything you believe in?"

"I've had to do it before. We both have."

"No. Not like this. Never like this."

He sighed in frustration, his anger toward himself and what he had done to her continuing to eclipse her attempts at absolution.

She placed her palm against his cheek, caressing him with her thumb. "El, all I'm saying is that we both walked away from this with scars. Just because you don't have the physical wounds doesn't make the emotional ones any less significant."

The darkness of the room did nothing to conceal the pain in his eyes. She slid her fingertips through the short strands of hair at his neck and upward along the back of his head, lightly raking her nails back down his scalp. He closed his eyes at the sensation, his forehead coming to rest upon hers. She lifted her lips to meet his, her tongue gently seeking entrance, and when he opened himself to her, she was once again shaken by the intensity of their connection. What had begun as an attempt to offer some comfort quickly transformed into something much more passionate. Elliot brought his hand up to tangle in her hair, shifting his weight so that their torsos were flush against one another. Olivia gasped for breath, her heart racing as his hand trailed a path down her side. She clutched onto the back of his head, holding him to her as their tongues continued their almost frantic exploration of one another. Elliot gripped onto her shirt, trying to prevent himself from escalating things further, but he couldn't resist slipping his hand lower to caress the smooth skin of the small of her back. She arched into him, softly moaning into his mouth as her breasts brushed against his chest. His fingers skimmed over her ribcage, his thumb brushing over the contours of her abdomen. She inhaled sharply, her muscles quivering as his touch left goose bumps in its wake. Her thigh slid against him at the same time that she lightly scraped her teeth over his lower lip and he groaned, his fingers digging into her hip to still her movements as he attempted to move away to conceal the extent of his arousal.

"Wait," he rasped. "Liv, I-"

She captured his lips again, sensuously stroking his tongue with hers as she fought against his hand and rocked against him. He practically growled, thoroughly kissing her once more for good measure before forcing himself to pull away.

"God, Liv," he breathed. He knew that there was no way she was unaware of his erection pressing into her hip and his jaw clenched from the effort of holding still.

"El?"

He gazed down at her, trying to regain his control. Her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight, her hair fanned out on the pillow. Her lips were parted and slightly swollen from his attention, and her chest was still rising and falling rapidly from adrenaline and want.

"God, you're beautiful."

Her hand immediately flew up self-consciously toward the cut on her cheek, but he had anticipated this and intercepted her with a gentle grasp on her wrist.

"Liv, you're beautiful. I'm probably going to be telling you that a lot, so consider yourself warned," he added with a smirk.

She smiled, shaking her head at him. "I suppose there are worse fates."

He placed a kiss on her palm before releasing her, but she did not lower her hand, instead taking a moment to lightly trail her fingertips over the soft skin of his lips. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but for some reason she found herself mesmerized by the juxtaposition of the velvety smoothness of his lips in contrast to the roughness of his five o'clock shadow, his chiseled features, the sculpted muscles that she knew existed beneath the confines of his clothing.

Elliot quietly studied her expression, wondering which thoughts were responsible for the slightly far off look in her eyes as she gazed at his mouth. He remained motionless, allowing her the freedom to touch him, trying to prevent himself from thinking about the sensations her feather-light touch would bring about if she were to trail her hand lower. The more he tried to rein in his thoughts, the more they seemed to race out of control and he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to collect himself.

Olivia dragged her gaze away from his lips long enough to take in the tension in his features, his labored breathing, and her heart skipped a beat at the knowledge that she was responsible for this – _her_ presence, _her_ touch. It was a heady realization. For as many times as Elliot had made her heart stop with a single look, a fleeting touch, she finally understood that he was just as affected by her presence as she was by his. Feeling emboldened, she returned her gaze to his lips, slowly tracing first his upper and then lower lip with the pad of her thumb as her other fingers came to rest lightly against his cheek. She slipped her left hand beneath the fabric of his shirt to run along his spine, her palm smoothing along the expanse of skin she'd discovered. She looked up at him, watching the tendon in his jaw stand out as she slid her hand back down his side. When she reached his waist she began another slow path upward, this time skimming her hand over his abdomen, enjoying the way in which his muscles contracted beneath her fingertips. She was intoxicated by the feeling of power it afforded her – watching him struggle to hold himself together, all the while knowing that with every caress she was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Part of her knew it was a dangerous game. She was playing with fire, and she wasn't altogether sure she was ready to withstand the heat.

She circled his nipple with her index finger and then suddenly his firm grip was encircling her wrist through the barrier of his shirt, trapping her hand between them and abruptly stilling her movements. Her eyes snapped up to meet his heated gaze, and just like that she knew that the control was no longer hers. She bit her lip, her face flushing partially from desire and partially from unease at the thought that she had done something wrong.

"Olivia," he grated, his voice low and tinged with lust and warning.

She swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. Her fingers lingered against his jaw for another moment before she let her hand fall away, trying unsuccessfully to extricate her left from his grasp.

His eyes dropped to stare at her lips, every muscle in his body rigid as he hovered above her, his weight supported on his left arm.

"El?" she asked nervously as his eyes found hers once more. There was a different intensity in his gaze that stopped her from breathing. It was feral. Possessive.

He loosened his grasp on her wrist, allowing her just enough time to slip her hand out of his shirt before he captured it once more, his fingers interlocking with hers as he gently but firmly guided her hand to rest on the pillow, mirroring her right. She didn't fight him – didn't try to regain her control, and while her breathing was rapid and shallow, there was trust in her expression. That alone took his breath away.

He trailed his fingers over her palm, skimming his hand along the curve of her arm and up the column of her throat until he cupped her cheek in his palm. "So help me, Liv," he rasped, "we're not going to rush into this."

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes dark with desire.

His words were meant to stop them, but despite the best of intentions he found himself continuing his gentle exploration of her body, intoxicated by every small hitch in her breathing brought about by his touch. His hand trailed a lazy path down her side, his fingers splaying over her ribcage. He teased the sliver of skin left exposed where her shirt had ridden up at her waist, slipping his hand just beneath the cotton and smoothing his palm over her abdomen, her already taut muscles tightening even further as he caressed her. Her skin was impossibly soft and it was all he could do to stop himself from leaning forward and replacing his hand with his mouth. God, he wanted to taste her.

Olivia shivered. He was treading carefully, purposefully avoiding the areas that were aching to be touched. He was doing everything in his power to hold them back – to prevent them from hurtling past the point of no return, but it only succeeded in ratcheting up her longing to an almost unbearable intensity. Her eyes remained locked on his, both of her hands tightly gripping onto her pillow as she struggled to comply with his prior wordless directive.

His hand stilled for a brief moment as he tried to summon up the willpower to pull away. He knew all too well what her touch had done to him, and it wasn't fair of him to continue to torment her when he knew he wouldn't let things progress further. Not tonight. Not yet. But the heat of her skin was searing his palm, the hunger in her eyes so enticing that he was selfishly overcome by the desire to prolong the moment for as long as she would permit him. His hand slid lower along the curve of her hip and down her leg, his thumb torturously stroking her inner thigh through the barrier of her sweats as he drew his hand back up her body.

She bit back a moan, her hips involuntarily rising up toward him but his strong hand preempted the motion, preserving the space between them and trapping her against the mattress. She let out a whimper of protest, the throbbing heat between her legs demanding the release he was denying her. His eyes flashed at the sound and the tiniest hint of a self-satisfied smirk crossed his lips.

Damn him.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt once more, slowly and deliberately sliding upward…upward…until he met the underside of her breast, trailing his fingertips ever so lightly along the skin beneath, his knuckles just barely grazing the swell of her.

She bit her lip, determined to win the battle of wills and refusing to utter the sound that was threatening to escape. Yet while she succeeded in suppressing the moan, she was powerless to control the other obvious signs of his effect on her. Her hardened nipples strained against her shirt, her breathing shallow and her entire body trembling from want. She wouldn't give in. She _w_ _ouldn'_ _t_.

Perhaps it was the look of pained restraint in her expression that finally caused him to withdraw his hand. He gently tugged on the hem of her shirt, smoothing his hand over her almost apologetically before bringing up his hand to brush the hair back from her forehead. She turned into his caress, brushing her lips against his palm. He lowered his head, grazing his lips over her exposed neck, her jaw, his teeth lightly nipping at her earlobe before his tongue darted out to soothe it.

" _Olivia_ " he rumbled hotly into her ear, his breath causing another shiver to run down her spine.

He might as well have said, " _Mine_ "

He pulled back, his eyes hooded as he looked down at her. He nudged her head back toward the center, holding her gaze as he bent forward to kiss her softly, lovingly – reminding her of what this was.

It was everything.

They slowly broke apart, and Olivia looked up at him with a slight question in her eyes as she tentatively lifted her hands from the pillow to stroke the sides of his face.

He smiled down at her reassuringly. She had never really needed his permission to begin with. Though he would never admit it, the control had always been and would always be hers.

"You want to shower?" he asked.

She cocked an eyebrow, shooting him a seductive smirk. "Together?"

Her playfulness caught him off guard and he laughed freely.

She thought it was the best sound she had heard in years. It had been so long since they had been able to be this relaxed with one another. She wondered how surviving something so painful had paradoxically been able to bring them to this point.

"Somehow I think that would defeat the purpose," he replied, a broad grin still lighting up his features.

"You want to go first?" she asked. "You, um, probably aren't all that comfortable at the moment."

"I'll live."

"You sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it-"

" _It_ _wouldn'_ _t_ _be_ _the_ _first_ _time,"_ he thought.

"It's fine," he recovered. "Go ahead."

"Okay," she said, brushing her thumbs across his jaw one more time before letting her hands fall away.

He rolled over onto his back, chuckling as she deliberately and suggestively crawled over him on her way out of the room. He listened to the sounds of her in the bathroom, the rush of water in the tub transforming into the hiss of the shower, and he imagined her undressing and stepping beneath the spray. He half sighed half groaned, reaching down to adjust himself and then stretching his arms overhead, interlocking his hands beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything else to get his lower half to calm the fuck down.

As the minutes stretched on he was beginning to feel fairly proud of himself, mind over matter starting to have some effect…until Olivia padded into the room wearing nothing but a towel.

 _Jesus_.

He lay there, frozen, unable to form words.

She honestly felt badly for him. "El, I'm sorry – really I am," she said, fidgeting with the top of the towel in attempts to make sure it wouldn't untuck itself and make things even worse. "I just… I didn't really think I'd be staying here for more than one night, and I was wondering if you had something I could change into?"

He raked his eyes over her. He couldn't help himself. Her long, toned legs seemingly extended for miles, eventually disappearing from view where the edge of the towel hit her upper thighs. Her hair was still sopping wet, droplets from the ends splashing onto her shoulders and creating continuous rivulets that ran over the tops of her breasts that were barely contained beneath the towel.

One tug…just _one_ decisive tug…

"Elliot?" she asked, the beginnings of irritation clear in her tone and body language.

Right. She had asked him something… Shit.

She let out an exasperated sigh, but the corners of her mouth lifted up in amusement at his near-panicked expression. He looked like a child who had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar, the guilt rapidly spreading over his features. "Do you have something I can sleep in?" she clarified as patiently as she could muster.

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

He sat up and slid out of bed as gracefully as he could manage in light of his current state, and went to rifle through the top drawer in the dresser beside her. He was doing his best not to look at her, desperately trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

"You um…you okay with boxers, or you want me to get you some sweats?"

"Anything is fine, El."

He pulled out a pair of boxers and one of his T-shirts, hesitating for a moment before moving to the closet to pull out his gray hoodie. He knew that she preferred to cover up, and given the state of her hair he figured that he'd be saving himself from further coronaries if he circumvented the possibility of her shirt becoming transparent. He turned to her, the combination of her state of undress and their proximity causing the air to thicken around them.

"Here," he managed, extending her the clothes.

She took them from him, clutching them to her chest and dropping her gaze. "Thanks," she murmured.

He nodded but said nothing.

For a long moment, neither of them made a move, but then Elliot strode forward, his hands falling on her arms and pulling them apart, the pile of clothes tumbling to the ground between them. His left hand found her waist and his right gently cupped her chin, tilting her head up to face him. She licked her lips nervously, the almost primal look in his eyes once again taking her breath away. He slowly backed her up the few remaining feet to the wall. Her knees felt weak and she was grateful for the added support.

His grip tightened on her waist and his other hand combed through her hair, the wet strands cool and slippery in between his fingers.

She wasn't used to standing next to him without some sort of shoes with heels, and at this moment she was more aware of the height differential than ever. She had to tilt her head back slightly to look him in the eye, and his imposing frame was hovering mere inches from her, trapping her between his body and the wall.

Her lips were parted and her face was flushed. Her eyes held his. She was waiting for him. Waiting for his next move. He saw desire mixed with a tinge of apprehension swirling in the dark depths and he managed to regain the power of speech long enough to check in with her.

His tone was low, simultaneously rough but soothing. "I'm just going to kiss you, Liv."

She recognized the statement for what it was – a request, a plea, even though it was not phrased as a question. He wouldn't make a move without her consent.

"Okay," she whispered.

That was all he needed. As soon as she had uttered the word his mouth was on hers, his tongue plunging inside of her. He was demanding but not forceful, his hands roaming over her body, but just as before he was mindful of the boundaries, careful not to push her too far too fast, even if Olivia would have allowed him to move them further. She was holding him against her, taking as much as she was giving. He growled against her mouth. This sort of push and pull was an entirely new experience for him, and he quickly realized that maintaining any semblance of control was damn near impossible with her. Of course it would be like this. Olivia was his equal in every way. There was nothing passive about her.

She shifted, purposefully pressing one of her thighs in between his, silently offering him permission to seek some relief. When he continued to hold himself back, she slid herself against him, swallowing his groan. She repeated the motion, and he couldn't help but thrust against her, his strong arms wrapping around her and hauling her further up his body. His hands clutched at the back of her towel, balling into fists.

It was then that he realized his mistake, because no sooner had he done so than the towel slid from her body, his hands the only thing preventing the material from pooling at her feet.

He ripped his mouth from hers, panting for breath. "I'm sorry," he gasped, holding her tightly against him.

She clung to him just as tightly, feeling lightheaded and relying on him to keep her steady. "It's okay," she assured him.

"I didn't…I didn't mean-"

"I know."

He tried to focus on the towel, his hands fumbling behind her as he tried to figure out how best to cover her again. He started to pull away when her voice stopped him.

"Wait," she breathed. "Just for a moment…" Her arms remained locked around him, her fingers clutching onto his shirt.

"Liv?"

There was concern in his expression and her face flushed slightly, embarrassed to have to explain to him that the reason behind her request had nothing to do with her state of undress and everything to do with her need for him. She closed her eyes. "I…I just want to stay like this," she managed, her voice small. "Just a little while longer."

She was hiding from him again, and he understood. Olivia clung to her independence like a security blanket. She never asked for anything – not for herself – and the fact that she was letting her guard down, admitting that she needed him, was undoubtedly terrifying for her. He slid his arms around her more securely, his right hand letting go of the towel to cradle the back of her head. The result was that the towel dangled loosely and uselessly from his left hand, but he trusted that she would forgive him. Her cheek was pressed against his neck, her lips brushing the hollow above his collarbone.

"Liv, we can stay like this forever if you'd like."

She breathed a shaky laugh. "Cragen might have something to say about that."

He smiled, recognizing her attempt at banter as a means of self-preservation. "I need this too, Liv," he murmured against her temple, his thumb stroking her hair.

She struggled to swallow, her throat choked with emotion. She was immensely grateful for what he had just offered her. Unable to speak, she merely clung to him, taking comfort in the safety of his embrace.

It was only when she shivered that he slipped his hand from her hair, taking hold of the towel again and using both hands to draw it around her. He held onto the ends for her, and she pulled back enough to take them from him, wrapping the material the rest of the way around her body.

"Thanks," she said, her eyes darting up to his appreciatively, and he knew that she wasn't just referring to the towel.

He nodded, running his hands down her arms, his gaze drifting lower and settling on the arch of her breasts. He took a step backward, drawing a hand across his jaw.

Space.

Space would keep him from devouring her.

"I'm uh…I'm gonna go rinse off."

The corners of her lips lifted in a knowing smile. "Okay."

He moved back to his dresser, blindly pulling out the first items of clothing he laid his hands on, and when he walked past her toward the hall, he wisely kept his eyes trained on the floor.

Olivia stood still for a moment, somewhat shell-shocked by the events of the evening. Eventually she stooped to pick up the clothes at her feet, taking a seat at the foot of his bed as she dressed. She slid her arms into his hoodie, pulling it snugly around herself as she climbed under the covers. She was struck by how natural it felt – climbing into Elliot's bed, sharing his space. For the first time, she realized that the oppressive feeling of melancholy that had been constricting her lungs over the past few days had lifted, leaving cautious optimism in its wake. She was no longer waiting for the moment that he would leave her. She was waiting for the moment that he would return.

That was the last thought that crossed her mind as she drifted off to sleep, and when Elliot quietly crept in the room and lay down beside her, he saw the traces of a smile still gracing her lips.


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter Note:_

 _This chapter took me a bit to write, but it was really my fault, because I got on an Oz kick (HBO show with Chris Meloni and others that you need to watch if you never have) and ended up writing my one shot - "Deception". I was then given the title: "Queen of the Dark Fics" by someone on SVUfans, as that pretty much solidified my reputation of being dark and twisty... I joked that someday I would write something light and fluffy and people wouldn't know what to do with themselves... ;) Also, I haven't mentioned it yet, but I really enjoy writing Olivia/Huang scenes too..._

 _Music: "False Flags" by Massive Attack._

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen**

Elliot's cell phone was vibrating on the nightstand. He had set it that way in the hope that if someone tried to call it would wake him and not Olivia but, as it turned out, Olivia was the one who gradually became aware of the insistent rattling.

"El," she said groggily.

"Mmph," he mumbled in response.

She propped herself up on her forearm, reaching across him to retrieve it.

Her movements broke through his sleep-induced haze, and he rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes as she rolled over onto her back and checked the screen.

"It's Cragen," she explained, extending it toward him.

"Better be good news," he grumbled.

Olivia glanced at the clock: 5:41am. It wasn't good news.

"Stabler," Elliot answered sharply, not bothering to hide his irritation.

Cragen didn't waste any time getting down to business. _"Elliot,_ _you_ _need_ _to_ _bring_ _her_ _in._

Elliot sat up quickly, immediately on guard. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Olivia tensed beside him.

" _Your_ _location_ _has_ _been_ _compromised."_

"How?" Elliot gritted.

" _More_ _details_ _were_ _leaked._ _They_ _broadcasted_ _the_ _story_ _on_ _the_ _five_ _o_ _'clock_ _news."_ He sighed. _"They_ _have_ _your_ _names._ _W_ _i_ _th_ _their_ _sources_ _in_ _the_ _NYPD,_ _it_ _s_ _only_ _a_ _matter of_ _time_ _before_ _they_ _make_ _the_ _leap_ _from_ _Queens_ _to_ _Manhattan._

"That son of a bitch," Elliot seethed. "It has to have been Petrov. He couldn't find us, so he decided to smoke us out."

" _At_ _this_ _point_ _I_ _m_ _inclined_ _to_ _agree._ _Come_ _in_ _as_ _soon_ _as_ _you_ _can._ _We_ _ll_ _regroup_ _when_ _you_ _get_ _here._

"Understood."

He snapped his phone shut. _Regroup_ _and_ _do_ _fucking_ _what?"_ Elliot thought angrily. He was tired of living in a perpetual state of hyper-vigilance. As far as he was concerned they were barely keeping their heads above water – the few developments in the case only succeeding in backing them even further into a corner.

"El?" her worried voice met his ears.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut against the tension headache that was starting to build. He'd rather go anywhere else than the one place where they'd be forced to maintain appearances.

"We gotta go in."

"That was fast," Olivia replied wryly, intuiting the reason behind the sudden move. "Maybe they should start letting reporters do our job."

"They didn't do squat," he spat angrily, his voice rising, but not at her. "They were spoon fed."

She pushed herself up to sit beside him, wearily rubbing her hands over her face. She said nothing, merely allowing him his anger. God knows she felt it too, but she no longer had the energy to fight. Instead she felt resigned. From the very beginning of the case she had felt as though they were caught up in a perpetually worsening nightmare. Now, just as she had finally begun to regain her footing, she was being forcibly evicted from the one place that had become her haven. She wondered if this were fate's way of reminding her that she was undeserving of anything but the most ephemeral glimpses of happiness.

She closed her eyes, her mother's hollow voice resounding in her mind: _Olivia,_ _happiness_ _is_ _just_ _an_ _illusion._ The recollection stood out as vividly as if she had been transported back in time – the overpowering smell of scotch that made it hurt just to breathe, the flickering of the television in the darkened room, the canned laughter that only served to emphasize the despair that pervaded the atmosphere. She was once again kneeling at the foot of the couch, a wet washcloth in her hand as she gingerly wiped away the mascara tracks that lined her mother's cheeks, the traces of bile from her lips. _T_ _his_ _is_ _real._ _P_ _ain_ _is_ _real._ _Don_ _t_ _ever_ _forget_ _that…_

Olivia shook her head slightly in attempts to rid herself of the memory, her arms wrapping around her knees as she curled further into herself. "I guess we knew we wouldn't be able to hide out here forever," she said wistfully, almost more to herself than to him.

Elliot continued to fume silently to her left, too caught up in his anger to notice the increasingly hollow look in Olivia's eyes as she carefully began to re-erect the protective walls that would help her to withstand the inevitable pain brought about by being thrust back into the real world – a world devoid of safety, but most importantly a world in which she and Elliot would be required to fall back into the professional roles that had defined the boundaries of their relationship for over a decade. It wasn't that she didn't trust his feelings – she knew that Elliot would never intentionally lead her astray; she just didn't trust that his feelings toward her would endure. Despite his attempts at reassurance, she couldn't shake the overwhelming fear that it was only a matter of time before he wised up and grew tired of her. Part of her was afraid that when they slipped back into their old roles, the spell would be broken.

The more she tried to steel herself for the transition to come, the more acutely aware she became of Elliot's proximity. It was no longer comforting. It was a painful reminder of what was about to be taken from her. She needed to move away from him. The more distance she put between them now, the easier it would be once they arrived at the precinct.

She scooted herself toward the edge of the bed and while Elliot almost missed her quickly mumbled excuse about needing to get ready, he did not for one moment miss the way in which she kept her chin tucked into her chest, effectively hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. He lunged forward, his firm grasp closing around her bicep. "Liv-"

"Elliot, I need to get ready," she repeated more coherently, still shielding her face from view.

"Olivia-"

"Let me go," she warned quietly, trying to snatch her arm away.

He released her after a moment's hesitation, but only because he had made the decision to change tactics, quickly standing and heading her off by the door.

She squeezed her eyes shut and let out an exasperated sigh. "Get out of my way."

"No," he replied evenly. "Talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about. We need to go."

He extended his right arm, gently brushing the hair back from her face. "Olivia-"

She swallowed. His voice had dropped into that soothing rumble that immediately threatened to crack through her resolve. She kept her eyes closed, trying to maintain her control. "Cragen's going to-"

"Cragen can wait," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"El, please don't."

"Don't what?" he asked, his thumb idly caressing the base of her throat.

"Don't do that."

He smiled slyly, bringing his other hand to cup her cheek. "Don't do what?"

She involuntarily leaned into his touch. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

His brow furrowed. "Liv, look at me."

She sighed in defeat, pressing her lips into a thin line as she met his gaze.

His heart melted as he looked at the sorrow in her expression. "What am I making harder?" he asked, framing her face in his hands.

She twisted out of his hold, stepping back a few paces and raising her arms slightly as if searching the air for the words. "Going back."

He exhaled heavily, brushing his thumb along his brow. "Believe me, I'm as thrilled about it as you are." He pushed himself off of the doorframe and took a step toward her.

She visibly tensed.

"Liv?"

She wrapped her arms around herself. "What?"

"You wanna tell me why my getting close to you is somehow making this worse?" He spoke softly, but he was unable to completely mask the hurt in his tone.

She looked down at her feet, unable to hold his wounded gaze. "El, I just…I need to get used to the distance again," she murmured.

His stomach plummeted. That was _not_ what he wanted, at all. The more she shut down now, the higher the risk of her shutting him out completely. What she didn't understand was that he was just as insecure in this as she was. _H_ _e_ needed the physical contact just as much as she did.

"I don't want that," he said quietly.

She sighed, feeling fatigue creep around her like a thick fog. She kept her eyes trained on the ground. "I don't _want_ it, Elliot, but I just…I need to prepare myself for it."

He slowly walked the rest of the way to her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"That wasn't what you said, Liv," he challenged gently.

She exhaled heavily, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"Preparing is one thing, Liv. You said that you needed to get _used_ to it."

"Yeah, well…" She shrugged dismissively.

"Liv, nothing's gonna change."

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Why was it so damn hard to believe that?

He took another step toward her, framing her face in his hands. He didn't force her to look up at him, and instead leaned forward, brushing his lips against her forehead. "What you need to get used to is _this_ ," he murmured against her, slowly trailing gentle kisses along her temple, her cheek, the sensitive skin beneath her ear. When he reached her throat, she made a small sound, tilting her head to grant him greater access.

She lifted her hands to his waist, sliding them around his back and slipping lower over…she froze, pulling away slightly, unable to resist the urge to look at him.

"Liv?" he asked in confusion.

She bit her lip, trying and failing to suppress a mischievous smile.

She continued to smooth her hands over his thighs, and when she stopped her downward path and moved up again, Elliot suddenly realized the difference.

She looked up at him in time to see his head tilt back slightly and his jaw clench. She leaned into him, brushing her lips against his jaw line as she purred, "You're wearing boxers."

He groaned at the feel of her hands on his bare skin. Her fingers were lazily sliding up along the backs of his thighs, over his ass, her thumbs running along his hip bones and skimming lower once more.

Technically she was still respecting the line in the sand, never allowing her hands to seek the destination she truly wanted to explore, but she smiled at the feel of his erection against her pelvis. She teasingly shifted her weight from side to side, brushing the full length of her body against him.

His breathing was ragged. The motion was subtle, but incredibly, agonizingly deliberate.

She lightly raked her nails over the sensitive skin at the top of the backs of his legs and he jerked against her.

"Jesus, Liv," he breathed, his hands involuntarily tightening their hold on her head. He wasn't sure whether he was begging her to stop or to continue.

She made the decision for them, reluctantly sliding her hands back out from underneath his boxers and wrapping her arms around his waist instead. "You know, maybe you're right," she teased. "I _c_ _ould_ get used to that."

He groaned again, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders as his right hand snaked into her hair. "You trying to kill me?"

"Hardly, but you didn't actually expect to get away with wearing those without my copping a feel, did you?"

He pulled back, his eyes narrowing in jest. "For your information I didn't pay any attention to my wardrobe after that stunt you pulled last night."

She smiled, blushing slightly. "El, I honestly didn't mean to–"

He silenced her with a kiss.

God the man could kiss.

He eventually pulled away, clearing his throat. "All I'm saying is that if I could manage to string together two thoughts when I'm around you, I would have been able to remember to grab a pair of sweats."

"Hey, don't be grabbing them on my account," she grinned.

He breathed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly and looking down at his feet. The truth was that he always slept in boxers. He never slept in sweats, but ever since she came to stay with him, he'd been careful to do so.

She cocked her head, her brows furrowing in curiosity as she took in his silence. Her smile slowly faded as comprehension dawned and an earnest expression took its place. "El, _have_ you been grabbing them on my account?" she asked softly.

He shrugged, casually raising his right hand to massage away some tension from the back of his neck before lifting his eyes to meet hers. "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

She placed a palm on his cheek, her eyes full of love. That he would have been so concerned about her emotional well-being to have considered this meant more to her than he would ever know. "Thank you," she said simply, unable to find the words. She kissed him softly, pulling back and running her thumb along his lower lip. "You…uh," she cleared her throat to rid it of the lingering emotion, "You officially have my permission to wear boxers whenever you want." She smiled, arching a brow. "Or nothing…if you want."

He chuckled, leaning back and allowing his gaze to drift over her own bare legs and back again. "I could say the same thing about you," he said suggestively, returning her grin and pulling her into an embrace. "Mind you…at your own risk," he rumbled into her ear, slipping his hand beneath her shirt – _his_ shirt – and along her spine.

She shivered and held him more tightly against her, resting her lips against the crook of his neck and breathing him in as if trying to commit his scent to memory.

"I don't want to go back," she whispered, suddenly falling serious once more.

"We're not going back, Liv."

She lifted her head, looking up at him in confusion.

"Not _back_ , Liv," he assured her, caressing the side of her face. "We're never going back. We're just going in. Okay?"

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her lip. "El?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to go _in_ either."

"Me neither," he replied.

She was the first to pull away, making her way into the bathroom to get ready while she did her best not to dwell upon the reason for which they were both up before dawn. Not having a lot of options to choose from, she pulled on her black pants and the same charcoal sweater she had worn a couple of days prior. She emerged from the bathroom to find the bedroom door slightly ajar. She smiled at the implication – he was letting her know that he was changing, while also making it clear that she was more than welcome to join him. She bit her lip, feeling a rush of what could best be described as pride at the fact that this permission was hers and hers alone. She was tempted to cross the threshold, but instead walked into the living room to wait for him.

She felt too keyed up to sit down so she made her way across the room toward the windows. The sky was still black, sunrise a good hour or so away at this point in the season. The cloud cover obstructed any view of the stars that would potentially be visible, but every so often a gust of wind would create opportunities for the moon to shine through. She rested her forehead against the glass, the chill from the outside air seeping into her pores. She tilted her head, looking down at the street below and immediately froze when she saw the figure of a man leaning against one of the parked cars and seemingly watching Elliot's building. She held her breath, continuing to study him, trying to make out any distinguishing features in the dark, and her blood ran cold when she saw the orange glow of a cigarette.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Elliot's footsteps behind her.

"Liv?"

She tried to regulate her breathing.

"Liv what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's probably nothing."

"What's probably nothing?" he asked, immediately on edge.

"I just…I'm probably being paranoid, but there's a man looking toward the building."

"Get away from the window," Elliot commanded tensely. His arm snaked around her waist pulling her to the side. "Get behind me."

"Jesus, Elliot," she hissed. "It's pitch dark in here. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't see inside the apartment."

Elliot continued to scan the street, unfazed by her outburst. "If you think for one second that I'm going to take any chances-"

"With what?" she snapped. "Last I remembered we watched _e_ _ach_ _other'_ _s_ backs."

"That's exactly what I'm doing," he gritted.

"No. What you're doing is treating me like I'm some simpering damsel in distress. I'm fully capable of looking out of a window without getting myself ki-"

Elliot whirled around to face her, his index and middle fingers pressing against her lips to silence her. "Don't," he said, his expression pained. "Just please don't even say it." He lifted his fingers, his hand hovering a few millimeters above her before he eventually withdrew it completely and turned back to the window.

The intensity of his reaction caught her off guard and it took her a few moments to regain her bearings. "Elliot," she called softly.

He sighed, drawing a hand along his jaw. He kept his gaze trained on the man below. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with fatigue. "Liv, just…just please let me do this right."

"Do what right?" she asked gently.

"Protect you," he murmured.

She started to protest, but fell silent when he continued to speak, pain and regret evident in his tone.

"That night…I was supposed to protect you…to protect Lara… I failed you both."

"El, no."

He shook his head, his voice strengthening in anger. "I won't let that happen again."

She tentatively approached him, placing her palms lightly on his back. When he didn't shrug her off, she drew them down his back and then closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You didn't fail us, El," she murmured against his shoulder blade. "You _d_ _i_ _dn_ _t_ ," she emphasized when she heard his sigh of frustration.

"It's not Petrov," he said, ignoring her attempts at reassurance.

She let out a sigh of her own, knowing full well that it was pointless to try to press the issue when Elliot had stubbornly put his foot down. She decided to let it go for the time being. "You sure?"

"Wrong build." He ran his hand along her arm. "Here," he said, taking a small step to the side to allow her to come to the edge of the glass. "Come see for yourself."

She let her arms fall away, coming to his right and leaning her forearm against the wall as she peered down at the street below. "You're right." She shook her head at herself. The man was the right height, but Petrov was heavier. "When I saw the cigarette I-"

"I know."

"I just…I remember the smell," she added quietly.

He nodded, placing his hand on the back of her neck and sifting his fingers through her hair. "I still don't like it. This guy's obviously here for a reason." He moved away to get his cell phone, and had it to his ear when Olivia motioned for him to approach.

"Elliot, take a look at this."

He looked over her shoulder to watch as the man put out the cigarette with a twist of his shoe, turning to acknowledge a news van pulling up to the curb. "Son of a-"

" _Elliot?_

"Uh…Cap," he cleared his throat. "We have a problem. We have reporters crawling all over the place."

" _Stay_ _put._ _I_ _l_ _l_ _take_ _care_ _of_ _it._

* * *

By the time that their ride arrived, the number of photographers, reporters and crew swarming the street and sidewalk below had increased exponentially. It made Elliot nervous. All it took was one impostor to infiltrate the throng…

"Fin's here," he said, turning to face her.

Olivia was seated on the futon, her elbows on her knees and her chin resting upon her hands. She straightened, wiping her palms back and forth along her thighs before pushing herself to her feet. She headed mechanically toward the door, Elliot close on her heels. She reached for her coat, but he pulled it from the hook first, holding it open for her as she slipped her arms through the sleeves.

"Thanks," she murmured, untucking her hair from beneath the collar. She darted her eyes up to meet his and he nodded, putting on his own jacket and releasing and checking the magazine in his Glock. She set her jaw, turning away from him as she pulled her own weapon from the counter.

"You ready?" he asked as she finished securing it on her hip.

She nodded, taking a long look around his apartment before turning toward him. She took a deep breath and resolutely moved forward, her hand barely grazing the doorknob when his strong arms encircled her waist from behind. She let her hand fall away, leaning against him and covering his arms with her own.

He placed a kiss on her temple before moving his mouth over her ear. "I love you."

Her breath hitched, tears immediately springing to her eyes. She tightened her grasp on his arms, wishing that the words could fall as easily from her own lips. She turned into him, stroking the sides of his face and pressing her lips against his in attempts to convey all that she felt by means of her actions instead.

He deepened the kiss, reveling in the feel of her body pressed against his, the taste of her that he knew would linger long after they were forced to maintain their distance.

They broke apart gradually, trading gentle kisses until she slipped her cheek against his, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. He snaked an arm beneath her coat, pulling her more closely to him and cradling her head in his palm.

"Can you hold onto this?" he asked softly, worried about the effect that the hours, perhaps days, to come might have upon this fragile foundation they had created.

She nodded, clinging to him more tightly.

"Promise me you won't run from this," he rasped, stroking her hair. "Please."

"I promise," she whispered.

Letting go was the hardest thing that either of them had had to do, but they knew that Fin was waiting. They slowly slid apart, Elliot's hand lingering on her cheek as he looked into her glistening eyes.

"Stay close to me," he instructed, the irony of the request not lost on either of them.

She breathed a laugh while she simultaneously sniffed and swiped at the hint of moisture at the corner of her eye. "Not a problem."

He shifted his weight, reaching around her to open the door and allowing her to pass through before following and pulling the door closed behind them. He scrolled through his phone as they descended the stairs.

"We're coming down now," he told Fin before snapping the phone shut again.

They paused at the bottom of the stairs, neither one of them wanting to go through the door.

"Okay," Elliot sighed, gesturing for her to step into him. "Keep your head down."

She nodded, feeling somewhat comforted by the weight of his arm around her shoulders.

"On three…"

He didn't count. He didn't have to. Their movements were perfectly in sync.

They were met by a rush of cold air and a dozen blinding flash bulbs, reporters yelling out a barrage of questions that they could barely distinguish in the collective din. Olivia kept her head turned into Elliot and tilted toward the ground. He tightened his hold on her, shielding her further with an outstretched palm as he continued to try to scan their environment through the disorienting flash bulbs that continued to erupt like fireworks in the dark. Several uniformed officers succeeded in keeping the crowd back far enough to create a corridor to the car that awaited them: a black SUV with tinted windows. One photographer managed to push his way into their path, snapping several shots in rapid succession before Elliot angrily grabbed him by the collar and shoved him to the side.

They finally reached the car where Fin stood holding the back door open for them. Olivia quickly slid inside, and Elliot pivoted to sweep his eyes over the crowd once more before sliding in beside her. Fin shut the door behind him and quickly took his place behind the wheel, all three of them breathing easier once the chaos was several blocks behind them.

Elliot rubbed a hand over his face, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

"An armored car?" Olivia asked somewhat breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest.

Fin caught her eye in the rearview mirror.

She cocked a brow, trying to ease the tension.

"I told you," he replied, flitting his gaze between her and the road ahead. "Only the best for my girl." He punctuated the statement with a wink, but his tight grip on the steering wheel betrayed his anxiety.

She looked over her shoulder at Elliot whose hands were balled into fists at his sides, the tendon in his jaw tensing and releasing repeatedly as he looked out of the window.

"Hey," she called quietly.

He turned to look at her, worry etched in his features.

"It's okay," she told him under her breath.

He nodded, offering her a taut attempt at a smile before turning back to the window.

She slumped down in her seat, leaning her head back against the leather.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

"Cragen wants to meet with all of us," Fin explained when they entered the squad room.

They nodded, continuing to follow him into Cragen's office where they were met by Munch, Huang and Warner. Munch stood, offering his chair to Olivia, while Elliot opted to remain standing to the right of the door.

"Glad you could join us," Cragen said wryly. "How was the ride in?"

"Uneventful," Fin returned sarcastically.

"You find out what was in that syringe?" Elliot asked, looking between Cragen and Warner.

Cragen nodded toward Warner, inviting her to respond.

"Lorazepam," she explained. "Used correctly? It works as a fast acting sedative, often used to pharmacologically restrain violent or agitated patients." She hesitated, meeting Olivia's gaze.

"And incorrectly?" Olivia asked.

Warner sighed. "He had more than enough in that syringe to result in an overdose."

"Meaning?" Elliot pressed.

"Coma…death."

Elliot crossed his arms over his chest, silently nodding with a furrowed brow.

"So what now?" Olivia asked, attempting to change the subject.

Cragen, Munch and Fin shifted uncomfortably. They hadn't been able to make any headway in pinpointing Petrov's location.

"We've run into a lot of dead ends," Munch admitted.

"What about Smythe?" Elliot asked.

Fin shook his head. "Nah, man. Petrov paid him off, but not directly. There wasn't an existing connection."

"We looked into the source of the cash flow, but whoever arranged the exchange covered their tracks well," Munch added.

"And the press?" Olivia asked.

"Anonymous tip," Cragen replied giving her a knowing look.

"Great," Elliot muttered.

"So where do we go from here?" Olivia asked hazarding a glance at Huang – the first she'd sent his way since she entered the room.

"Utilizing Smythe was a calculated maneuver," Huang replied. "Petrov chose poorly – Smythe was inexperienced, inept, but the plan in and of itself was sound. Yet now Petrov is becoming impatient. Involving the press was sloppy – an act of desperation. He's no longer thinking rationally. He's being fueled by rage."

Elliot chuckled bitterly. "Perfect – a desperate psychopath on a quest for revenge."

"Perhaps," Huang replied, shooting Elliot a sidelong glance. "But the more desperate Petrov becomes, the greater the chance of him making a mistake."

Olivia nodded. "What do we do about the press?"

"We think we can use the media coverage to our advantage," Cragen said.

"How so?" she asked.

Cragen looked between her and Elliot. "We use a doppelgänger. Send her back with Elliot."

"Petrov sees the footage, thinks Olivia's still with me," Elliot followed.

Cragen nodded. "Olivia stays here while we wait for Petrov to make a move."

"And what?" Olivia asked with a tinge of irritation. "We just place Elliot and this officer in harm's way? What difference does it make if it's her life or my life on the line?"

"There's a chance that he won't fall for it," Huang explained. "If Petrov manages to catch wind of the deception, he may try to come after you here."

"You honestly think he'd come after her at the precinct?" Elliot asked skeptically.

"He's becoming bold, brazen," Huang said. "If anything, he wants to prove himself – to establish his dominance as the new alpha male in Nikolai's organization. What better way to do so than to successfully organize Olivia's capture from within the NYPD itself?"

Olivia sighed. She was exceedingly tired of being the center of attention.

"And she'll have a detail here?" Elliot questioned Cragen.

He nodded. "Fin and Munch will provide a rotating detail for the time being."

Olivia felt her blood pressure start to rise. She may as well have not even been in the room, what with everybody making decisions on her behalf.

"Tonight Munch catches forty winks, and he'll take over for me in the morning," Fin affirmed.

Elliot nodded. "Okay."

"We also have a fail-safe," Munch added gesturing to a watch that lay on Cragen's desk.

"Meaning?" Elliot asked.

Munch picked it up by the band, dangling it in the air. "TARU outfitted it with a tracking device. We can monitor the signal online from any computer or PDA."

That was the last straw. Olivia stood abruptly, snatching the watch from his hand and extending her arm so that it dangled a few inches in front of Cragen's face. "Why not just put a bell around my neck? It'd be cheaper," she spat, depositing it back on the desk and stalking out of the room.

She made her way to an empty interrogation room, slamming the door and plopping herself down into the nearest chair. She was shaking in anger, tired of the case, of the uncertainty, of the constant scrutiny…of the perpetual lack of control. She rested her elbows on the table, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against clenched fists. God help Elliot if he tried to talk to her right now. She couldn't be held responsible for her actions. She wanted to hit something, and she was fairly certain that she would lash out at the first person that walked through the door.

She heard the door open and she whipped her head up, directing a withering glare at…Huang. Her eyes widened.

Perfect.

She flushed, closing her eyes. Of all the people with whom she could have picked to lose her cool. "I'm sorry," she gritted.

Huang did his best to suppress his amusement. "No need… Mind if I join you?"

Yes.

She sighed. "No."

He smiled knowingly, taking a seat to her left.

She chuckled, their positions identical to the last time she had been in Huang's hot seat. "I'll try not to have a nervous breakdown this time," she said wryly.

His smile lingered on his lips though he wasted no time in getting down to business.

"Have you been feeling anxious?"

She swallowed the quip about not having felt that way until he had entered the room. There was no point in deflecting his questions with humor. He would merely sit quietly and wait for a genuine response. "No. Not like that afternoon. It's been better."

He nodded, quietly observing the way she nervously laced and unlaced her fingers.

"You've been staying with Elliot."

Her fingers stilled. The statement had been made casually, but it immediately put her on guard.

"How has that been?" he continued.

"Fine," she answered defensively.

God, she wasn't in the mood for this today.

"Look," she sighed, looking down at her hands and hurriedly rattling off a rambling list of apologies and explanations hoping that this would be enough to get him off her back. "I'm sorry I snapped back there. It was uncalled for and I shouldn't have lost my temper. I realize that Cragen," she shook her head, "everyone, has my best interests at heart. I just… I'm just…" she trailed off.

"Human?" he offered.

She swallowed, meeting his gaze once more. He was regarding her calmly, compassionately, and without judgment, and suddenly, without understanding where it came from, she found herself on the verge of tears. She pressed her lips together, struggling to keep her emotions at bay.

She shrugged, closing her eyes. "Tired, I guess," she managed after a pause.

"Olivia, nobody is expecting you to be superwoman. In fact," he said carefully, "I would be more concerned if you said that everything was _fine_."

She reopened her eyes, the implication of his last statement not lost on her.

He said nothing, but arched an eyebrow in silent challenge.

She rubbed her hands over her face, tucking her hair behind her ears and leaning forward on her elbows once more, her lips coming to rest against the steeple of her fingers. She stared off into the distance, trying to find the strength to withstand the inevitable questioning to come, and searching for words that would be truthful enough without being too revealing.

"After the undercover op, all I wanted to do was to fall back into my regular routine," she said quietly. "So much had happened…I just…I wanted to get back to normal." She glanced up at Huang and he nodded his understanding. "I wanted my life back…my independence. Nikolai was dead. It was supposed to be over."

"And then Petrov came along."

She let out a hollow laugh. "I just wanted to go home."

"And that was no longer an option."

"And out of all of the places to stay…" She sighed, falling silent for another long moment. "You asked me how it's been…staying with Elliot," she said softly. "It's been…confusing."

Huang nodded, letting her response hang in the air as he considered how best to direct the conversation. "You said that you've been feeling less anxious. How have you been sleeping?" he asked.

She stiffened, locking eyes with him. She had been gearing up for more questions about their current living arrangements, and the change of topic caught her off guard.

"Not great," she admitted.

"In what way?"

"I can um…I can fall asleep, but I've been having a hard time staying asleep."

"Olivia, have you been having nightmares?"

"Yes," she murmured, staring at the table.

"Tell me about them," he prodded gently.

"I'd rather not."

"I know."

She sighed, rubbing her fingers against her temples. "Is this going to be the part where you tell me I'm crazy?"

He smiled. "I doubt that."

"You haven't heard them yet."

"Try me."

She shifted uncomfortably, feeling self-conscious and unsure of where to begin.

Huang sensed this and tried to give her some direction.

"Is there a common theme?"

She nodded, trying to stay as detached as possible. "I'm…I'm always a victim."

"You're the victim of sexual assault?" he clarified gently.

"Yes," she replied, rubbing a palm over her forehead.

"By whom?"

She raked a hand through her hair, closing her eyes as a flood of images assailed her. "They…" She swallowed. "It changes."

"Olivia, do you know your attackers?"

She nodded.

"Who are they?" he asked softly.

She looked up at him, pain in her eyes. "It doesn't matter," she said, her voice wavering.

He regarded her patiently, his expression apologetic and kind. "But it does, doesn't it?" he asked rhetorically.

She drew her lower lip into her mouth, scraping her teeth over it as she found a safer focal point somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. "Nikolai…Harris…" she replied hoarsely.

Another long minute passed. "Who else, Olivia?'

A tear escaped and she flicked it away impatiently with her index finger. "Why do you have to ask if you already know the answers?" she asked. Her tone was not accusatory, only vulnerable.

"I don't know the answers, Olivia. I can make educated guesses based on the facts, but I don't know if they're accurate unless you tell me."

"Do me a favor then?"

"What's that?"

"Go ahead and ask…so I don't have to say his name," she said shakily, her eyes welling with tears.

"Does that make it easier?"

She breathed a sad laugh. "No," she sniffed. "No, nothing makes this easier. It just…it just makes it feel like less of a betrayal," her voice broke.

"Olivia, does Elliot know about the nightmares?"

"Yeah. He confronted me about them the other night. He um…he heard me cry out."

"And what was his response?"

She smiled sadly. "He was supportive, understanding, compassionate…" her chin quivered, "devastated."

"Did Elliot feel as though you were betraying him?"

She shook her head, raising her anguished eyes to his once more. "No. He felt like he had betrayed _m_ _e_."

"Did he?"

Her brows immediately knit in protest. "No. Never." She shook her head. "Only in the dreams."

"Tell me something, Olivia. What about Elliot frightens you the most in the dreams?"

She wrapped her arms around herself, running her hands back and forth along her upper arms. "The lack of recognition…the cruelty…"

"What about when you were undercover?"

"What do you mean?"

"What about Elliot frightened you the most during the undercover operation?"

Her mouth opened and closed. "I don't know."

"If you had to pick something?"

She fell silent, genuinely undecided. She had come to terms with the fact that, on some level, Elliot, not Carl, had frightened her in that room; yet she had not stopped to truly evaluate what it was that had been the most unsettling for her.

Huang studied her. She was staring off into the distance, a haunted look in her eyes. She was re-living whatever she had experienced in that room, cycling through the memories of an encounter that had shaken her to her core. When she finally responded, she spoke so softly that he was unable to make out her answer.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"His strength," she repeated softly.

"Elliot's physical strength," he echoed.

She nodded, unconsciously pulling one of her knees into her chest so that her foot balanced on the edge of her chair.

"Why do you think that is?"

She rubbed her chin against her knee. "I don't know… I hadn't really thought about it before. I mean…I knew that he was strong. Being with him in the field…the times he needed to subdue a perp."

Huang nodded.

"It was…reassuring I guess." She shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"His strength was a source of safety – of protection."

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheeks.

"And then suddenly it was used against you," he offered.

She swallowed, flooded by memories of being restrained, pinned against the wall…the mattress….his weight…his taunts…Nikolai's laughter.

Huang observed her silent struggle, the pained look on her face. "It would have been terrifying for anyone," he said gently.

"Tara wasn't supposed to know how to defend herself. She wasn't supposed to be able to fight back. But I _do_ know how to defend myself… We knew that Nikolai liked the struggle, and when Elliot…" she trailed off shaking her head. "I…I wasn't responding like Tara. I wasn't holding back. I was using every last ounce of strength I had…and I was powerless to stop him." She looked down at her hands, shame etched in her features.

"Olivia, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

Her cheeks burned and her vision blurred, making her hands appear to swim and churn before her.

"What good am I to him in the field if I can't even defend myself?"

"Olivia, you _are_ able to defend yourself. You took down Smythe all on your own."

"I know Elliot better than I know myself. I should have been able to do something – slow him down."

"How?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, rubbing her hand over her forehead. "Somehow."

"And if someone else had been in your position? Another woman? The victims you work with everyday?" he challenged. "Would you tell them that they could have done something differently? That they should have fought harder?"

She sighed in frustration. "No, of course not, but-"

"So why are you holding yourself to a different standard?"

"Dammit, I don't know!" she cried, pushing herself back from the table and going to stand by the window. She gripped the protective bars, her shoulders jerking as her body grieved, though she refused to allow the sobs to come to the surface. "I just…after Sealview I vowed that I would never let anyone take that control from me again. I even…" she let out a sound that was some amalgamation of a laugh and a cry, "God, I even started making excuses for myself – like if he hadn't had the handcuffs, I would have been able to get the upper hand." She shook her head at her stupidity. "And then I was faced with this assignment…and I figured that I wasn't really giving up my control, because it was my decision. And it was Elliot." She paused. "But then we were in that room…and I…I just… There were no handcuffs…no excuses anymore…just me and him and I felt…I felt…weak."

"Because you couldn't stop him?"

She nodded. "I felt weak…and ashamed."

"Why ashamed?"

"Because Elliot knew."

"What did he know?"

"That I _had_ been trying to stop him… That I couldn't stop him."

"Olivia," Huang said gently. "Elliot _i_ _s_ physically stronger than you are. He always has been."

"I know that," she replied wearily.

"Then why do you think it matters so much to you now?"

"I just…he said something to me once, in anger, about needing to come to my rescue. And after this…after Harris…I've been questioning my ability to do my job…whether I'm a liability."

"Olivia, there's a lot more to this job than being physically strong. You know that."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself and turning to face him. "I know. I just…I've been feeling so powerless."

Huang cocked his head to the side. "A dangerous man is targeting you. An attempt has been made on your life. What other way is there to feel?"

She breathed a laugh, running her hands through her hair.

"Sometimes it's important to remember that we're not in this alone," he added.

"I um…I'm not very good at accepting help from others," she said wryly, gesturing toward Cragen's office with an incline of her head.

He smiled warmly. "Accepting help doesn't mean that you aren't capable of taking care of yourself."

She sighed. "I… I should probably get back in there. If we're done here," she amended hastily.

He nodded, pushing himself back from the table to stand and waiting for her by the door. "Olivia, when you're ready, I'd like for you to consider talking to Elliot about what you shared with me," he told her. "These are complicated issues that won't resolve themselves on their own."

She nodded, catching a glimpse of Elliot across the room as he headed toward the coffee machine.

She made her way across the squad room toward Cragen's office, pretending that she did not notice the way Fin and Munch stopped their conversation as she walked by. She tapped on the doorframe when she arrived, and he gestured for her to enter.

"Cap, I want to apologize for-"

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "We're all a little high strung these days."

She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets and shifting her weight as she glanced at the watch on the desk.

"We're plumb out of bells," he offered dryly. "Sorry to disappoint."

She smiled sheepishly, leaning forward to take it from the desk. "I guess this will have to do," she replied. "Have you uh, found my stand-in yet?"

Cragen nodded. "Katherine Bailey, Narcotics. Same height and hair color. Fin worked with her in the past," he added, amusement flitting across his features. "Said he could vouch for her build."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Great," she said sarcastically, shaking her head.

* * *

Bailey arrived within the hour. She was younger, perhaps in her late twenties, but Olivia had to admit that it was a pretty good match. Fin arched backward in his chair, his hands clasped on his stomach and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Olivia smacked him on the back of the head as she passed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she muttered in faux annoyance.

Fin merely grinned.

"Hi, I'm Olivia," she said warmly, extending her hand.

Bailey's face lit up with a genuine smile. "Katherine," she replied lightly, meeting her halfway. "But everyone calls me Kat."

Olivia shot a glance over her shoulder at Fin who soundlessly and suggestively mouthed, "Meow." She gave him a disapproving look which she then directed at Elliot who seemed to be finding the exchange entirely too entertaining. He did his best to suppress his smile, looking down at a pile of paperwork that she knew he hadn't been working on.

"Nice to meet you," Olivia said releasing her hand. "Do you need to meet with my captain?"

"Nah," she shrugged, wrinkling up her nose. "I was briefed by mine. Figured we could go over the details while we get ready?"

"Okay," Olivia nodded, leading the way to the locker room.

Kat plopped herself down onto the bench, pulling off her shoes while Olivia sifted through the contents of her locker trying to find a change of clothes. She eventually pulled out a fitted tank top and a tracksuit that had thankfully been freshly laundered. She tossed them onto the bench, and watched as Kat nonchalantly divested herself of her sweater as if trading clothing with a complete stranger was an everyday occurrence. Olivia smiled at the ridiculousness of the situation and set about to remove her own.

"You're not allergic to cashmere, are you?" she asked, working her arms out of the sleeves.

"Nope," Kat grinned. "So as long as you weren't rolling around in shellfish today, we should be fine."

Olivia chuckled, pulling it over her head and fixing it so it was right side out again.

"Jesus!" Kat exclaimed. "That prick really did a number on you, didn't he?"

Olivia glanced up at her to gauge the direction of her stare, and found that she was focused on the deep discoloration that continued to mar her left breast. "Uh, yeah…he did," Olivia replied, fidgeting with her bra to try to get it to cover more of the bruise.

"Son of a bitch shot a kid, too?"

Olivia nodded, extending her the sweater before bending over to grab the tank top from the bench.

Kat shook her head in disgust. "Assholes abound," she muttered, pulling Olivia's sweater over her head.

Olivia had finished putting on her tank top when she caught site of a scar on Kat's abdomen. "Looks like you came across one of your own," she remarked, stepping out of her pants.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. That was a gift from my old man," Kat said casually. "I give you a ton of credit. I could never work special victims." She smoothed her hands over the soft fabric. "Ooh, this is _n_ _i_ _ce_. Anytime you need a decoy, I'd be happy to fill in."

Olivia smiled, recognizing the significance of the quickly glossed over tidbit of self-disclosure and appreciating Kat's personality all the more.

"Oh, and for future reference? My favorite color is blue."

Olivia laughed in earnest, tossing her the pants. She finished putting on her tracksuit and took a seat beside her as she pulled on her sneakers. "They fit okay?"

"Yup. Perfect," she beamed. "You have my permission to be my personal shopper." She turned and studied Olivia, pursing her lips in concentration. "Hmm…You got a first-aid kit around here?"

Olivia looked puzzled. "Cabinet in the bathroom, why?"

"I know the goal is for my face to stay hidden, but there's no sense in taking any chances." She fished through her bag, pulling out a makeup case before grabbing Olivia's hand and tugging her along with her into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Kat was applying the finishing touches to a make-believe bruise. On the opposite side, a butterfly bandage covered an identical gash to Olivia's thanks to a creative application of lip liner and various other products.

"Thank you for doing this," Olivia said, catching her eye in the mirror.

"Sure," she replied. "It's really no trouble. I've been on my share of undercovers gone bad. Last one had me walking around with a shiner and a busted lip for a week. It was a hit at the Halloween party though," she added with a wink.

Olivia chuckled.

"So what's the deal with Petrov, anyway? Why's he gunning for you so hard?"

"He blames me for the death of his brother."

Kat's hand stilled. "The one that blew his own head off?"

Olivia nodded.

Kat rolled her eyes melodramatically. "Go figure," she said dryly, returning her attention to the creation of her bruise. "You can't make this shit up."

"No, you can't," Olivia echoed quietly, gently pressing her fingertips to the area surrounding the slow-healing gash that was all too real.

"There," Kat said, putting the makeup brush down and tilting her head from side to side to admire her handiwork. "Amen for Sephora, right?" She tugged on her hair elastic, shaking out her hair that tumbled down below her shoulders. "Okay," she exhaled a puff of air, rummaging through her bag and pulling out a small pair of scissors.

"Kat, no," Olivia protested. "I'd feel awful. Just keep it pulled back instead."

Kat stubbornly shook her head. "Uh-uh. It'll grow back in no time. So either you do the honors or I will, but seeing as I don't have eyes in the back of my head, I'm hoping you'll give me a hand." She expectantly held Olivia's gaze, waggling the scissors back and forth and chopping the air twice for good measure.

Olivia sighed, taking the scissors from her hand.

* * *

When they walked back into the squad room, more than one person did a double take. Olivia was pleased to note that Elliot was not one of them. His eyes immediately found hers, and although he shifted his focus to Kat to evaluate whether or not the ruse would work, it was clear that he hadn't been fooled for one second.

"See? What'd I tell you?" Fin said proudly.

"Not bad," Munch conceded.

Cragen emerged from his office, nodding as he approached. "Elliot," he motioned for him to stand beside her.

Elliot nodded his understanding, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair and slipping his arms through the sleeves. "Liv?" he asked, indicating her coat with an incline of his head. Olivia nodded and he paused to retrieve it.

" _That'_ _s_ your partner?" Kat muttered under her breath so quietly that only Olivia could hear her.

Elliot was suddenly before them, and Olivia uncomfortably cleared her throat. "Kat, this is my partner-"

"Elliot," he said with a small smile, handing her the coat.

"Nice to meet you," she responded, taking it from him and immediately turning toward Olivia. "Do you wear it with the buttons done up?"

"Not usually, no," she replied, infinitely grateful that Kat had re-adopted her no nonsense focus.

Kat nodded and finished putting it on.

Olivia moved away from them, coming to perch on the edge of her desk and doing her best to ignore the pang of jealousy she felt as she watched them try to figure out the best way to position themselves to ensure that Kat's true identity would not be revealed.

"It should work," Cragen said after a few minutes. "Be careful getting her out of that car," he cautioned.

Elliot nodded. "I should be able to block her with my jacket until she can turn into me."

"We've got this," Kat said confidently, looking first at Cragen and then at Olivia. "Don't worry," she told her.

Olivia nodded, darting her eyes up to meet Elliot's gaze before looking down at the ground.

"Okay," Cragen said. "Let's give this a shot."

"I'll check the garage – make sure it's clear," Fin said.

"Call me when you're ready," Elliot replied.

Kat watched Olivia quietly steal off in the direction of the locker room, and she made some excuse about getting something from her bag and followed her. She found her seated on the bench, absently running a hand through her hair.

"Hey," she said gently, sitting down beside her.

"Hey," Olivia returned, offering her a half smile.

"So…you've been staying with Elliot, huh?"

Olivia nodded.

"How's _that_ been?" she asked arching a brow.

Olivia looked over at her, unable to suppress the soft laughter that unexpectedly bubbled out of her. "I'm sorry," she said regaining her composure. "It's just that our resident FBI shrink asked me the same question not two hours ago…though his delivery was a tad different."

Kat smirked. "Yeah, well. I call 'em like I see 'em."

Olivia sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "We're just partners, Kat."

"Uh-huh," she replied, sounding entirely unconvinced.

They both turned their heads as the door opened and Elliot entered.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting," he said. "Fin's ready for us," he explained, his eyes focused on Olivia who had immediately dropped her gaze to her hands.

"Right," Kat said, pushing herself off of the bench. "I'll just let you get your stuff together."

"Watch your back," Olivia called as she headed toward the door.

"Sure," she replied lightly before disappearing into the hall.

Elliot stood still for a moment before making his way toward her and slowly lowering himself to sit to her right. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and turning his head to look at her. "You, uh…you got that watch?"

"Yeah," she said, lifting up her sleeve. "Why?"

He brushed his thumb over his brow, catching her eye somewhat guiltily. "I may have convinced Cragen to give me one of those PDA things," he shrugged.

She chuckled, shaking her head at him.

"You gonna start with me?" he asked, shifting his weight to the left and nudging her with his shoulder.

"No. I'll let you off the hook – just this once," she qualified, reaching over and running her palm along the back of his hand.

He smiled at the contact, turning his head the rest of the way over his shoulder, leaning into her until his nose nestled into her hair and his lips grazed her ear. "You're breaking the rules," he murmured.

"I know," she whispered, her eyes drifting closed at the feel of his breath hitting her skin. She started to pull her hand away but he clasped it between both of his, facing forward once more as he placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

He gave her hand one last squeeze before reluctantly letting it go.

She wrapped her arms around herself as he stood, increasingly lamenting the fact that she had to remain at the precinct.

"Oh," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out her cell phone. "It was in your coat," he explained, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, smoothing her thumb along the exterior, her eyes downcast.

He reached down, tenderly cupping her cheek with his palm, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter Note:_

 _I had a lot of fun with this chapter because it let me play with Olivia and Fin some more, and it also let me rattle Elliot a bit with the introduction of my own personal character, Kat. (Dick Wolf does NOT own Kat!...just everybody else). This chapter was posted close to the year anniversary of when I posted the first chapter (I'm a slow writer...) and it also coincided with being named a "favorite" fic by readers on the old SVUfiction site, which meant more to me than I'll ever be able to put into words._

 _At any rate... I promised a return to case action... Here we go!_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen**

Olivia closed her eyes, the sound of the door shutting echoing bleakly in her mind. A long minute passed before she remembered to breathe again, all of her energy having been consumed by fighting the impulse to chase after him. She had thought that she had been making progress – that, just like her physical wounds, her emotional state had been slowly but steadily improving, the effects of the traumas she had weathered becoming less of a consistent presence in the forefront of her mind. Yet now, sitting alone in the empty locker room, she felt like a small child whose security blanket had been forcibly ripped away from her. She didn't feel like a cop. She felt empty and broken and full of fear.

Her knuckles were white as she clutched the cell phone, when it suddenly vibrated in her hand. _Our_ _lifeline_ _s_ , she recalled, the memory of the night before the undercover op suddenly springing to mind. She flipped open the phone, blinking through the blur of unshed tears as she attempted to focus on the screen. At first she wasn't sure if she was creating the image out of pure desperation, but 'NEW TEXT MESSAGE' continued to stare back at her. She almost laughed at the phone's helpful question: 'READ NOW?' She inhaled shakily as she pressed the button.

 _ **From:** **Elliot**_

 _10:03:42AM_

 _Chin up, Benson. You can't get rid of me this easily. No running. E._

The corners of her lips lifted into a slight smile. She ran her thumb along the keypad, tempted to respond, but then paranoia won out and she snapped the phone shut instead. She would never forgive herself if an ill-timed text message managed to shake his concentration at a crucial moment. She tucked the phone into the pocket of her shirt, standing and smoothing her hands over her hair before making her way back toward the squad room.

"Hey," Munch called as she approached, pivoting in his chair to face her.

She shoved her hands into her shirt pockets, lowering herself to perch on the edge of her desk. "Hey."

"Donut?" he asked mid-mouthful.

She grimaced. "No. Thank you. Anything yet?" She tilted her head in the direction of Cragen who was anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot and glancing up at the television screen every few seconds.

Munch shook his head. "They should be pulling up any minute."

Olivia nodded, her fingers involuntarily tightening around the cell phone.

He studied her for a moment, leaning forward in his chair and dropping his voice so that only she could hear him. "Listen, about earlier…I wanted to-"

She preempted his apology with a shake of her head. "I was out of line. It doesn't take much to set me off these days," she added wearily.

He pursed his lips, considering her response. "Concussion, sleep deprivation, becoming the fixation of your friendly neighborhood stalker," he rattled off. "Not to mention having to share living quarters with Stabler who's undoubtedly reverted to caveman-like tendencies in his bachelordom…" He paused, pointedly looking at her above the rims of his glasses.

She chuckled, looking down at the ground.

"Seems like more than enough to me." He leaned back in his seat, taking another bite of his donut and practically choking on it as he gestured toward the television screen.

A cold feeling of dread immediately spread throughout her system, most of it pooling in her stomach. She pushed herself off of the desk, quickly heading toward the footage of the black SUV that had stopped in the middle of the street in front of Elliot's apartment. It took a while before Fin emerged, and Olivia imagined the last minute discussion that had taken place within the protective confines of the car: Elliot ensuring that Kat was on the same page in terms of how to position herself upon exiting the vehicle, checking in with Fin and scanning the throng through the tinted windows in attempts to pinpoint any signs of danger in their midst.

Cragen remained frozen to her left and she felt as Munch came to stand just behind her. She held her breath as Fin opened the door, watching as Elliot stepped out, casting a glare of warning around at the reporters and photographers that continued to yell out an incessant barrage of questions.

All three sets of eyes never wavered from the screen as Elliot turned back toward the vehicle, holding open his coat to shield Kat from view as she stepped outside. Kat kept her head down and immediately turned into Elliot who protectively wrapped his arm around her shoulders and used his other hand to cover her face. Fin promptly took his place on the other side of her, extending his arm to keep the onlookers at bay and continually sweeping his eyes over the crowd as they neared the building.

Olivia found the experience of watching the scene that was unfolding before her somewhat surreal. Had she not known the truth, she had to admit that it might as well have been footage of herself, except for the fact that she knew with painful clarity that it was Kat with Elliot, _Kat_ _'_ _s_ arm that was clinging to his waist. Her jealousy had nothing to do with a fear of Kat's intentions. Despite having only spent a brief period of time together, Olivia knew that her motivations were purely altruistic. No, her jealousy stemmed from the simple fact that Kat was occupying the spot in which she wanted to be.

While she was forced to remain at the precinct, surrounded by concerned colleagues that tried and failed to avert their gaze from the bruises that marred her skin, Kat would be with Elliot, far from prying eyes. While she was tossing and turning on an uncomfortable bed in the drafty crib, Kat would be safely tucked away in the apartment that had become more like home to Olivia in the span of a few days than her own had felt in over a decade of occupancy.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, continuing to stare up at the screen – as if by surveying their every move she could somehow manage to will them to safety.

* * *

Elliot and Kat were almost to the building, and Fin quickly jogged ahead and unlocked the door. He ushered them inside, glancing behind them as he stepped inside and closed the door.

"Keep going," Elliot urged under his breath, never loosening his hold. The last thing they needed was for a photographer to have snuck inside of the building only to surprise them on the stairs.

Kat nodded against him, her head tucked securely against his chest as he continued to shield her face with his palm.

"One more flight," he informed Fin, gesturing up the stairs with an incline of his head. "Second door on the right."

Fin nodded, jogging up the stairs and letting himself inside. He quickly checked the interior, ensuring that the rooms were secure and pulling the blinds on the windows to prevent anyone from catching a glimpse of Kat from the neighboring buildings. By the time that Elliot and Kat entered, Fin was sufficiently convinced that they were in the clear.

"We're good," he informed them as Elliot used his foot to nudge the door shut behind them.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, man. You're covered."

Elliot nodded, his arms immediately falling away. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Kat replied breathlessly, running a hand through her hair. "What'd I tell you? Piece of cake, right?"

Fin shifted his gaze between them before settling on Elliot. "You two all set?"

Elliot nodded, his eyes betraying the source of his true concern.

Kat picked up on his hesitation and quietly moved away under the guise of removing her coat. She observed them from the corner of her eye, picking up pieces of their softly spoken exchange.

"You'll call if she…if anything…"

"I'll call," Fin replied, lowering his voice even further. "She doing okay?"

Elliot sighed, raising his hand to work out some of the tension in his neck. "Sleeping's been rough."

Fin nodded and started to step away when Elliot stopped him with a firm grasp on his arm, worry in his expression.

"I've got her back, man… _and_ yours."

Elliot nodded, releasing his arm.

Fin headed toward the door, pausing beside Kat who was hanging Olivia's coat on the hook by the door. "Behave," he told her.

Kat offered him a lopsided smile. "I always do."

He shook his head. "Yeah, yeah…" he muttered, opening the door just far enough for him to slip through before pulling it closed behind him.

Kat turned to face Elliot who returned her gaze somewhat uncomfortably.

The room was very silent, and they were very alone.

Kat leaned her shoulder against the wall. "So, uh… _T_ _his_ is awkward," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Elliot breathed a laugh.

Kat grinned back at him. "Oh, and for the record?" Despite what Fin might have lead you to believe, I don't bite." She winked.

"Is that so?" he replied, his tone not altogether convinced.

"Nah. I just have a tendency to speak my mind. You know…no filter?" She shrugged, pushing herself off the wall and coming to stand a few feet before him. "But you don't have a problem answering personal questions, right?" she asked innocently, cocking her head to the side.

Elliot swallowed, a hint of panic in his eyes.

Kat made a halfhearted attempt at suppressing her smile before slowly turning away. "Didn't think so," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked across the room and plopped herself down onto the futon.

Elliot closed his eyes, letting his head droop forward. It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

"How'd we do?" Fin asked as he entered the squad room.

"See for yourself," Munch replied, gesturing toward the TV.

Fin went to join Cragen and Olivia who were comparing a photograph taken during her early morning exit with Elliot, with a freeze frame of the footage of Elliot and Kat.

"Not bad," Cragen remarked.

"So far they're reporting it as if it were me," Olivia added.

Fin grinned. "I told you I knew the right girl for the job."

Olivia pursed her lips, turning toward him and narrowing her eyes dangerously. "Uh-huh. And just where do you get off contemplating our _builds_?"

Fin's mouth opened and closed in protest.

She arched a brow in feigned disapproval. "Seems like grounds for a write-up. Don't you think, Cap?"

Cragen chuckled, raising his hands in surrender as he backed away and sought refuge in his office.

"Hey now," Fin said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You can't blame a guy for noticing what's right in front of him. You know, especially being a detective and all."

"Of course not." Olivia patted him on the shoulder and turned away, walking over to her desk and lowering herself into her chair. She looked at Elliot's vacant seat, resting her elbows on her desk and balancing her chin on top of her clasped hands. She wondered how he was getting on with Kat… A hint of a smile formed on her lips at the thought.

"Something funny?" Fin asked, pausing mid-stride with coffee in hand.

She cleared her throat. "I was just thinking that Elliot has his hands full, being trapped in closed quarters with that friend of yours."

Fin smirked. "Does he _ever_." He moved the rest of the way to his desk, setting the coffee down and turning in his chair so that he faced her across the aisle. "She start in on you too?"

Olivia smiled by way of response.

Fin shook his head in amusement, but his expression slowly transformed into one of irritation. "She caught me yawning on a stakeout one night? Started calling me 'Oldafin'."

Olivia snorted, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

"Never lived that shit down," he grumbled.

Munch opened his mouth to respond but Fin shot him a glare.

"Don't start with me. I'm the one stuck with your old ass out in the field."

"With age comes wisdom, my friend," Munch replied, standing and pulling his jacket around his shoulders.

"You out?" Fin asked, back to business.

Munch nodded. "Gotta rest up for bingo night at the old age home. That is, unless Olivia wants to listen to some more friendly banter?"

Olivia pretended to mull it over. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll be fine with just the one sitter."

"Suit yourself." He turned to Fin. "Eight o'clock tomorrow?"

Fin shrugged indifferently. "Whenever. Rest up."

Munch nodded, acknowledging both of them before heading toward the elevator.

"Speaking of," Fin said, catching a glimpse of Olivia stifling a yawn. "You want to catch a few in the crib?"

Olivia shook her head. "I'll just grab some coffee."

"It's been sitting a while," he cautioned.

Olivia shrugged. "It's caffeinated. It'll do."

She made her way over to pour herself a cup, being liberal with the sugar in the hopes that it would simultaneously mask the staleness and help to keep her on her feet. She returned to her desk, sitting down and idly rolling her chair from side to side as she nursed the barely drinkable beverage in her hands.

"I thought you were only into that herbal shit anyway," Fin remarked.

Olivia arched an eyebrow in amusement.

Fin narrowed his eyes. "Tea," he said flatly.

Olivia dropped her gaze to his chest for a moment before meeting his eyes once more. "Things change," she said simply, picking at the seam on the rim of her cup.

"Yeah."

Fin held her gaze, his eyes conveying an understanding that ran deeper than that which she wished he could see.

* * *

"You expecting a call?" Kat asked when she caught Elliot glancing at the cell phone on the table for the third time.

Elliot's eyes snapped up to meet hers. "What? Oh, no." He shook his head. "I guess I'm still keyed up is all."

"Mmm," she replied noncommittally.

She watched as his gaze lowered to settle on the faux bruises on her face, darkness clouding over his features.

"Oh, uh, I forgot about these," she said hastily, wiping her fingers back and forth along her handiwork and causing the area to smudge.

The action triggered a recollection of his argument with Olivia.

 _Olivia,_ _we'_ _ll_ _slap_ _on_ _some_ _stage_ _makeup,_ _make_ _it_ _look_ _like_ _a_ _bad_ _bruise._ _I_ _'_ _m_ _not_ _going_ _to_ _fucking_ _punch_ _you._

 _Which_ _is_ _a_ great _idea_ _since_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _sure_ _when_ _you'_ _re_ _in_ _the_ _process_ _of_ _attacking_ _me_ _there_ _is_ _absolutely_ _no_ _chance_ _of_ _that_ _getting_ _smudged._

Elliot drew a hand along his jaw, recalling the number of times he had laid his hands on her that night. She'd been right. God knows he wished that it hadn't come to that but, as usual, Olivia had been willing to confront a truth that he hadn't been ready to acknowledge.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" Kat asked softly.

He straightened. "Of course not." He made a move to stand but she held up her hand.

"Down the hall?"

"Yeah. On the right."

She nodded, slipping past him and disappearing around the corner.

He heard the door close behind her and slumped back against the seat, exhaling heavily. He was finding that without Olivia by his side – without being able to focus on her needs in the present – all that he was left with were his thoughts and the memories of all of the ways in which he had failed her. Over the past few days, when his guilt and remorse had become more than he could bear, he had been able to find reassurance in her presence at his side and, most recently, by the blessed ability to hold her. Yet now there was nothing to fill the void. He wasn't plagued by nightmares. No, instead his worst fears were those that had already transpired, and there was nothing he could do to erase the pain that he had inflicted upon her, nor the vivid memories of her assault from his mind.

Kat emerged from the bathroom, all traces of her fake injuries successfully washed away.

She offered him a gentle smile. "Better?"

Elliot sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just been a long few days."

She nodded.

His cell phone suddenly vibrated against the table, and she watched as he attempted to mask his eagerness to reach for it.

"I think that's the one you've been waiting for," she said knowingly, reaching to pick up the remote control.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, leaning forward to check the screen. He debated about whether or not to leave the room, but figured that at this point it would only make matters worse, so he opened it there.

 _ **From:** **Olivia**_

 _11:48:23 AM_

 _F & I have a running bet about how long it takes Kat to make you uncomfortable. I said it already happened. Speaking of running, check the PDA. I haven't budged._

Elliot rested his mouth against the knuckles of his left hand to hide his smile. He glanced up at Kat who was making a concerted effort to give him some privacy by flipping through the channels.

 _Send Message_

 _ **To:** **Olivia**_

 _Tell Fin to pay up. It's not even noon and I need a beer. You're actually giving me permission to spy on you?_

He sent the message, snapping the phone shut and balancing it on his thigh. He looked up at the TV, purposefully avoiding Kat's gaze.

"Anything important?" she asked innocently.

"No."

She turned back to the screen.

"Sports Center?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. Unless you want to watch something else?"

"No, this is fine. I just didn't take you for the ESPN type."

She shrugged. "I had two brothers. I can go for almost anything, just not golf." She wrinkled up her nose in disapproval. "It's like watching paint dry."

He smiled, watching as she idly twirled the remote control in her hand.

"Oh, and can you believe this guy?" She turned back to Elliot, gesturing emphatically at the TV. "Moron shoots himself in the leg while guzzling wine. Brilliant."

Elliot chuckled and immediately silenced his cell phone as it began to vibrate against his thigh. It made no difference. Kat picked up on it right away.

"Ask her if she might be willing to part ways with this sweater," she said with a wink.

Elliot opened his mouth to protest, but she clucked her tongue.

"Oh, Elliot. Your kids are safely tucked away with your ex. It's not your captain, and it sure as hell isn't one of the guys. Who the hell else would it be?"

"Kat," he warned, immediately up in arms. "Whatever you think you know about Liv and me it's-"

She smiled at the use of the nickname. "Strictly professional," she finished for him.

"Yes," he hissed.

"Of course," she said lightly, turning her attention back to the screen.

He studied her, and she was quiet for long enough that he figured she'd dropped it. Eventually he looked down at his cell phone, but just as he did so, she started back up again.

"All I'm saying is that I spent all of an hour with her, and she had me wishing that I docked on the _other_ side of the marina…" She paused, looking at him slyly. "If you know what I mean…"

" _Kat_ -"

"But I guess when you work alongside someone for as long as you have, you probably become immune to that sort of thing, right?"

" _Right_ ," he gritted.

She nodded, falling silent for another minute or so before continuing. "Well, one thing is crystal clear."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "What's that?"

"She is head over heels in love with you."

He looked up at her in confusion. "I…she said something to you?"

Kat smiled at him warmly. "She didn't have to."

Thoroughly flustered, he flipped open his phone, desperate to focus on anything that might help to extricate him from this conversation.

 _ **From:** **Olivia**_

 _11:55:39 AM_

 _It's Happy Hour somewhere. Have one for me while you're at it. Yes, I'm giving you permission. If I had a PDA, I'd spy on you too. ;)_

He immediately began to text his reply, standing and walking into the kitchen as he did so as a means to put some distance between himself and Kat.

 _Send Message_

 _ **To:** **Olivia**_

 _I'm heading to the fridge right now. Is Kat related to Huang?_

He sent the message, setting the phone down on the counter as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. He removed the top and took several large gulps before taking a deep breath and turning to face Kat once more.

"You thirsty?" he called just loudly enough to carry across the room.

"Sure," she replied, pushing herself up from the futon and slowly coming to stand at the opposite side of the counter. "What do you have?"

"Not a lot, unfortunately. Water…orange juice…beer…"

"Water would be great."

He pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge, breaking the seal and bringing it over to her.

"Thanks."

She lowered herself to sit on one of the stools behind the counter, taking a couple of sips and watching as he took another swig of his beer.

"I drove you to drink, huh?" she commented apologetically, darting her eyes up to meet his somewhat tentatively.

It was the first time that he had seen a crack in her typical bravado, and he tried to do his best to put her at ease.

"Nah. Like I said, it's just been a long few days. You sure you don't want one?"

"Yeah. Actually, I don't really touch the stuff."

"Oh, sorry," he said quietly. "Would you rather if I didn't-"

"No," she shook her head with a small smile. "It's not like that. I mean, I _do_ drink from time to time – during undercovers and things. I just um…I've been on the wrong side of enough angry drunks that I've sort of developed an aversion to the stuff." She shrugged off the statement and took another sip of her water.

Elliot nodded thoughtfully.

"I like your apartment," she said, casting a glance around the room. "It's cozy."

He smiled knowingly at the abrupt change of subject. "Thank you."

"I can see why she didn't want to leave here."

Her face blanched, realizing that she'd once again brought up a sensitive subject.

Elliot couldn't help but smile at her attempts to backtrack.

"I mean, um, not for other reasons – not to imply that there _are_ other reasons – I just…I just meant that-"

"Kat?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter, his eyes twinkling as he took in her flustered appearance.

"Yeah?"

"Relax."

"Oh. Okay." She swallowed.

It occurred to him that she didn't know him well enough to gauge how he might react, and realized that it was very possible that a part of her was expecting him to snap. "You didn't make me angry earlier. Defensive? Maybe. Protective? Yeah. It's not a line of questioning I do well with."

She nodded. "Like I said, I don't have a filter."

Elliot's phone vibrated again and he caught Kat's eye as he went to retrieve it.

 _ **From:** **Olivia**_

 _12:13:41 PM_

 _Huang? Uh-oh, sounds like she's putting you through the wringer. Try to be patient. She's one of the good guys._

He slid the phone into his pocket.

"Can I say one last thing?" she asked hesitantly.

Elliot chuckled. "Can I stop you?" he asked, raising the bottle to his lips once more.

She grinned. "Probably not."

He finished swallowing and breathed a laugh. "Shoot."

"I just wanted to say that your eyes soften whenever you read her messages. It's nice." She raised her palms in surrender. "That's it, I promise. No more prying."

"That's it, huh?"

She nodded.

"And how exactly does that work with someone who has 'no filter'?"

"Mind over matter?" she suggested, clearly grasping at straws.

He regarded her with amusement. "So tell me something… This prying thing you do. Does it work both ways? Because the way I see it, you have me at a disadvantage."

"I suppose that's fair," she conceded.

"So how many questions do I get?

"Um…four?"

He nodded. "Okay, first question. How old are you?"

" _That'_ _s_ your first question? You're not very good at the whole concept of prying, huh?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Do I get more questions when you insult my questions?"

"Sorry. Twenty-nine."

"Did you always want to work Narcotics?"

"Yup," she replied without hesitation. "It's why I joined the force. It's a never-ending battle, but it's a battle I wanted to fight."

He nodded, choosing his next words carefully. "The angry drunks you mentioned. They weren't just angry drunks, were they?"

She smiled wryly. "Maybe you're better at this prying thing than I gave you credit for."

He shrugged. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he offered.

She shook her head. "It's okay. No, they weren't just angry drunks. You name it and they probably used it."

"Mind if I ask who they were?" he asked gently.

She smiled resolutely, though it did not reach her eyes. "My old man and my ex. At least, those were the biggies. Anyway, c'est la vie, right?" She took another sip of her water.

Elliot studied her quietly for a few moments before moving to place the remnants of his beer by the sink, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge. "For the record? I wasn't angry with you, and I wasn't going to drink until I got drunk."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "You don't have to-"

"I know," he replied, his expression kind. "I just wanted you to know."

She looked as if she were about to say something, but thought better of it.

"What?"

"I'm filtering," she said proudly.

"Unfilter."

She chuckled. "Enabler," she teased. "I was just going to say that if Olivia _were_ with you – that is, in a more than partnerly sort of way – I'd be happy for her."

"Is that so?"

She nodded. "You're one of the good guys."

He exhaled heavily, brushing a thumb over his brow. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't be too sure about that if I were you," he murmured guiltily.

"Meaning?" She looked up at him expectantly.

He shook his head.

"Hmm…"

She drummed her fingers along the ridges of her water bottle, regarding him entirely too intently for his liking.

"You know what I think?"

"One can only imagine," he deadpanned.

"I think you should have another beer."

He laughed. "Now you're _trying_ to get me drunk?"

She grinned. "Better than sodium pentothal."

"Sorry to disappoint. Just so happens that I'm a brooding drunk."

"Well, then I guess I have my work cut out for me."

* * *

"Liv?"

Fin's voice startled her and she lifted her head to see him leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm going to order in some lunch. You want something?"

She rubbed her hands over her face and leaned back in her chair. "I'll get something later. I'm not really hungry."

He furrowed his brow. "I wouldn't be either if I was having that as an appetizer." He gestured to the pile of statements she'd been poring over for the last hour.

She raked a hand through her hair, absently rubbing the back of her neck.

"You sure you want to be reading those?" he asked gently.

She nodded up at him, her expression drawn. "I um…I have all of these jumbled images in my mind. Women…girls being put through hell and back again." She paused, running her index finger along the photograph attached to the current file. "I need to know their stories – to remind myself that some good came out of that night."

"A lot of good, Liv," he amended. "For them and for all of the ones that would have followed."

She attempted a smile, but sadness permeated her expression.

"Just not for the one we were trying to save," she said softly, unable to mask the tremble in her tone.

"You don't know that," he said evenly.

She nodded her acceptance of his response, though the only thing she knew for certain was that she would never forget the look in Lara's eyes as she struggled to cling to consciousness – fear and pain swirling in the green depths with an intensity unlike anything Olivia had ever seen. It was not the fear of death, but rather as if in that one gut-wrenching moment, Lara had been communicating the myriad horrors to which she had been subjected. While she had remained silent, her eyes had screamed for salvation. Olivia wondered what it would take to help Lara heal in the aftermath of such an existence.

So consumed was she with this concern that she did not notice when Fin quietly withdrew to leave her with her thoughts. She stared off into the distance, overcome with grief for a child who had been robbed of her childhood. She remembered the sight of her tiny, broken frame and heard the echo of the gunshot so clearly in her mind that it was as if she had been transported back through time. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and shifting her focus back to the stack of files on the table, each one representing an individual that had been forced to endure God knows what level of torment at the hands of Nikolai and his many accomplices. She studied the photograph of the teenage girl whose hollow eyes stared up at her from the current file – devoid of all hope, as if a light had been snuffed out within her. It made Olivia's heart ache. She could only hope that Fin was right – that some good would come out of this for them all.

* * *

Several hours went by before Olivia finally closed the last file and placed it on top of the pile. She felt emotionally drained, the combination of pain and fatigue making it an effort just to breathe. She longed for a nap – the irony being that she knew full well that no sooner would sleep claim her than she would be tormented by her subconscious. Deciding that sleep was not an option, she glanced over at the large cup of coffee and the brown paper bag that Fin had quietly deposited on the edge of the table before returning to the squad room. Peering inside the bag, she found a cinnamon scone and was pleasantly surprised when she discovered that the cup did not actually contain coffee, but instead a chai latte. She smiled, wondering whether the gesture reflected his earlier joke about her herbal preferences, or whether he was trying to convey something deeper. Fin was nothing if not an enigma. As much as he played things close to the vest, there were times that Olivia had gotten glimpses beneath the no-nonsense exterior that led her to believe that there was much more to him than what met the eye.

She broke off a small piece of the scone, chewing slowly and doing her best to ignore the churning in her stomach brought about by the countless number of victims' statements that now threatened to become a permanent fixture in her mind. The more that she ate, the more she became aware of how hungry she actually was, and before long she had finished the scone and over half of the latte. She leaned back in her chair, looking out of the window at the overcast sky and wondering how long she would be forced to remain holed up inside of the precinct. It still irritated her to no end that Cragen had appointed Fin and Munch as a rotating protective detail, but she was thankful that Fin had agreed to take the first shift. She didn't think that she would have been able to deal with listening to hours' worth of Munch's conspiracy theories as he attempted to pass the time. Fin, at least, was giving her some much-appreciated breathing room.

"Can I help you?" she heard him ask from the other room.

"Please," a lightly accented female voice replied. "I am looking for Detective Benson."

"I'm sorry, but she's unavailable right now. Can I help you with something?"

"No, please. I must speak with her. _P_ _lease_."

Olivia heard the desperate tinge to her voice and moved to the door, peering through the blinds to try to get a better look. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, a worn wool coat engulfing her thin frame. A few tendrils of sandy blonde hair peeked out from beneath the scarf she wore as a kerchief, and a bruise stood out on her cheekbone, the dark purple a stark contrast to her otherwise ivory complexion.

"Can I get you anything?" Fin asked quietly. "Something to drink?" He extended his arm, attempting to lead her to a chair, but she shrank away from him, nervously darting her eyes over her shoulder.

"No, please, I must see her," she repeated on the verge of tears. "You don't understand!"

Fin made no further attempt to touch her, having immediately taken note of her reaction to his proximity.

"What don't I understand?" he asked gently.

"I-I need-" Her voice broke and she looked down at the ground, taking a moment to try to regain her composure.

Olivia watched as she raised a trembling hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and when she lifted her eyes to look up at Fin once more, Olivia gasped with recognition: her eyes – her vibrant green eyes.

Olivia quietly opened the door, slowly making her way across the room.

"She's the only one I can trust," the woman was urging Fin.

"I'm very sorry," he said, "but she's not here to-"

"Can I help you?" Olivia's soft voice interjected behind his shoulder.

Fin whirled around to face her, his expression equal parts disbelief and irritation.

"D-detective Benson?" she asked tentatively.

Olivia purposefully ignored Fin's glare of warning and turned her attention to the young woman, regarding her warmly. She took a few steps toward her, offering her a small smile of encouragement. "Yes. How can I help you?"

"I…I needed to find you… to ask…" she trailed off, her eyes welling with tears as she once again cast a nervous glance around the room.

Olivia caught Fin's eye. "Why don't we speak in private?" she suggested, gesturing to the interview room that she had just vacated.

The woman nodded and Olivia led the way with a gentle palm on her shoulder.

"Please," Olivia said, indicating the chair before her.

"Thank you," she replied looking between Olivia and Fin who had positioned himself just inside of the door.

Olivia darted her eyes up to meet his in silent question, but he responded with a slight shake of the head. There was no way that he was leaving her alone with anyone – threat or no threat.

"This is Detective Tutuola," Olivia said reassuringly. "What is your name?" she prompted when it appeared as though she were too paralyzed from emotion to be able to continue on her own.

"M-my name is Anya."

"How can I be of help?" Olivia watched as she anxiously scanned the room and attempted to put her at ease. "It's okay. You're safe here."

Anya took in a shaky breath. "I saw the reports on the news. You…they said that you had visited a little girl in the hospital?"

Olivia nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.

Anya's chin quivered and she reached a trembling hand into her pocket. Fin stiffened behind her, his hand immediately moving to his sidearm, but relaxed when she pulled out a folded photograph.

Anya raised anguished eyes up to meet Olivia's. "Please," she said, unfolding the photo and sliding it across the table. "Is this the little girl?"

Olivia stared down at the image, her throat tight.

"It was taken many years ago, but it's all that I have," Anya continued when Olivia remained silent.

Olivia swallowed. The little girl could not have been more than two years old, her light blonde hair falling around her shoulders in gentle waves, but the similarities were undeniable. There, staring up at her with wide green eyes, was Lara. "Yes," she managed.

Tears spilled out over Anya's cheeks. "It is Lara? You found her?" she breathed.

"Who are you?" Olivia asked, placing her hand on top of hers. The resemblance between Lara and Anya was striking.

"Lara is my sister's child. My sister was…" she hesitated. "She is no longer with us."

"Nikolai," Olivia replied quietly.

Anya nodded, swiping at the tears that continued to fall. "I knew that he had taken them, and when I learned of my sister…" she trailed off. "I could not bring myself to believe that he would have murdered an innocent child. Every night I prayed for her…every night…"

Olivia nodded, grief in her eyes.

"It was bad…what he did to her?"

"Yes," she said huskily.

"Is she…is she alive?"

Olivia exhaled shakily, trying to prevent her own emotions from coming to the surface. "She was very gravely injured. My partner and I…we went undercover to try to stop Nikolai…to try to save her."

Anya's eyes held hers, unwavering and strong.

"We were so close," she whispered. "We almost had him… I tried to reach Lara to pull her to safety…but Nikolai got to the gun first." She stopped, unable to bring herself to voice the rest. "She's been fighting so hard, but the doctors don't know if she's going to make it. I'm so sorry," her voice cracked.

Anya shook her head. "No," she urged. "Thank you for all that you've done." Her gaze fell to the bruises on Olivia's face and neck. "For all of the sacrifices that you've made… I can never repay you."

"I wish I could have done more."

"It's in God's hands now."

Olivia nodded, attempting a smile. She wished that she had that belief to cling to in times of need but, try as she might, such faith remained elusive.

"Can I…can I see her? Is she allowed visitors?"

Olivia looked up at Fin, her eyes pleading with him to make an exception.

He quietly sighed and nodded.

"I can't go with you," Olivia explained, "but Detective Tutuola will take you there."

"Fin," he said, trying to put her at ease.

"Okay," Anya said quietly, holding Olivia's gaze. She started to stand, but Olivia halted her with a gentle grasp on her arm.

"Anya, who's hurting you?" she asked softly.

She immediately tensed, fidgeting with her scarf. "No one."

"An-"

"No," she shook her head. "It is nothing. It was an accident."

"I can help you."

Anya looked down at the table, despair pervading her expression. "No," she said quietly, darting her eyes up to meet Olivia's once more. "You can't."

She slowly pulled her arm away and pushed herself up to stand. Olivia ripped off the corner of a piece of paper and quickly jotted down the number for the precinct.

"If you change your mind, please call. We're here to help."

Anya nodded, taking it from her and tucking it inside of her coat pocket. "Thank you…for everything." She looked at Olivia thoughtfully, her eyes sincere. "Perhaps it's true what they say – that angels walk among us."

Olivia took one last look at Lara's photograph before extending it toward Anya.

"No. Please keep it. My sister would have wanted for you to have it."

She started to turn away when Olivia called out to her.

"What was her name?"

"Nadia," she replied. "She would have been twenty-four next month."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Anya nodded, offering her a sad smile.

Olivia watched as she turned and walked through the door, Fin following closely behind her. It was not until the door had closed that she finally allowed the tears to fall.

* * *

Elliot stood by the window, looking down at the street below. Most of the media presence had dissipated, a handful of stragglers remaining on the off chance that they would reemerge from the building. He closed the blinds once more, turning to look at Kat who had fallen asleep on the futon. He smiled to himself, musing that she looked harmless enough while unconscious.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he reached for it, anticipating it to be another text message, but instead it continued to vibrate against his palm. His brow furrowed in concern. He answered with a hushed tone, trying not to disturb Kat as he crossed the room and headed toward the bedroom.

"Liv?"

"… _El_ _…"_

Her voice was gravelly and he knew immediately that she had been crying.

"What's wrong?"

" _Is_ _this_ _a_ _bad_ _time?_ _"_

"No, not at all," he assured her, his voice returning to a normal volume as he closed his door. "What happened?"

" _Nothing._ _I_ _'_ _m_ _sorry._ _I_ _didn'_ _t_ _mean_ _to_ _make_ _you_ _worry._ _I_ _j_ _ust_ _…_ _I_ _thought_ _you'_ _d_ _want_ _to_ _know_ _that_ _Lara_ _'_ _s_ _aunt_ _came_ _by_ _the_ _precinct_ _this_ _afternoon."_

"Her aunt," he repeated, lowering himself to sit on the floor, his back resting against the side of the bed.

" _Anya,_ _"_ Olivia affirmed.

Elliot remained silent as Olivia described the encounter, gradually processing the new information.

" _Elliot,_ _her_ _eyes_ _…"_ her voice cracked. _"_ _She_ _has_ _the_ _same_ _green_ _eyes._ _"_

She fell silent and Elliot heard as she attempted to stifle a sob. She had covered the receiver to muffle the sound, but he heard it nonetheless.

He swallowed. "I wish I was there with you right now."

She sniffed. _"_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _fine,_ _El._ _I_ _d_ _i_ _dn_ _'_ _t_ _call_ _to_ _make_ _you_ _worry."_

He smiled. "I was worried _before_ you called."

" _I_ _know,"_ she said quietly.

For a moment, neither of them said a word, both taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing.

Eventually Olivia spoke again, her voice thick with fatigue. _"_ _All_ _of_ _those_ _years,_ _Anya_ _had_ _been_ _afraid_ _that_ _Nikolai_ _had_ _murdered_ _Lara_ _too…_ _I_ _didn'_ _t_ _have_ _the_ _heart_ _to_ _tell_ _her_ _that_ _what_ _he'_ _d_ _put_ _her_ _through_ _had_ _been_ _worse_ _than_ _death."_

Elliot nodded as if she were able to see his response. No one should ever have to suffer the way that Lara had suffered.

" _But_ _I_ _think_ _she_ _knew,"_ Olivia continued. _"_ _She,_ _um_ _…she'_ _d_ _clearly_ _been_ _beaten,_ _though_ _she_ _denied_ _it._ _"_

Elliot sighed, drawing a hand over his face.

" _She_ _was_ _young,_ _El,_ _and_ _from_ _what_ _she_ _told_ _me_ _about_ _her_ _sister,_ _I_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _think_ _that_ _Nadia_ _could_ _have_ _been_ _more_ _than_ _fifteen_ _when_ _she_ _had_ _Lara._ _"_

"Jesus," he muttered.

" _Anyway,"_ she continued, her voice choked with emotion, _"_ _Fin_ _took_ _Anya_ _to_ _the_ _hospital_ _to_ _see_ _Lara._ _"_

Elliot straightened. "Wait a minute," he bristled. "You're telling me that _y_ _our_ protective detail is in a different county?"

" _Relax,_ _El,_ _"_ she placated. _"_ _Cragen_ _has_ _been_ _hanging_ _out_ _in_ _the_ _squad_ _room._ _I_ _highly_ _doubt_ _that_ _the_ _reason_ _he'_ _s_ _there_ _is_ _to_ _spend_ _some_ _quality_ _time_ _with_ _the_ _rookies."_

He ignored her attempt at levity. "Where are you now?"

" _An_ _interview_ _room._ _Th_ _e_ _blinds_ _are_ _drawn._ _I_ _'_ _m_ _sa_ _f_ _e,_ _El._ _Okay?"_

"Fine," he grumbled.

" _Elliot?_ _"_

"Yes?" he replied hotly.

" _You_ _gonna_ _ask_ _me_ _what_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _wearing?"_ she teased.

He laughed, her question catching him off guard. "Actually, I prefer to picture you naked…"

She chuckled. Typical.

"Liv?"

" _Yeah?"_

"I'm sorry I wasn't there today."

" _It'_ _s_ _okay._ _You_ _s_ _urviving_ _Kat?_ _"_

He groaned. "Yeah, but she's nothing if not persistent. You tell her anything about us?"

" _No,_ _why?"_

"Because either we're incredibly transparent, or she's entirely too good at reading people."

Olivia spoke through her smile. _"It'_ _s_ _okay,_ _El._ _I_ _doub_ _t_ _she'_ _d_ _say_ _anything_ _to_ _anyone,_ _even_ _if_ _she_ _did_ _know._ _"_

"With her mouth?"

" _Like_ _I_ _said,_ _she'_ _s_ _one_ _of_ _the_ _good_ _guys."_

"I am starting to get that," he conceded wearily.

" _I_ _'_ _ll_ _um_ _…_ _I_ _'_ _ll_ _let_ _you_ _go._ _I_ _just…_ _I_ _needed_ _to_ _hear_ _your_ _voice._ _"_

He closed his eyes, allowing her words to wash over him. She had spoken softly, tentatively, but the fact that she was offering him a truth that she would have ordinarily suppressed meant the world to him. "Yeah, me too."

He sat still for a long while after the call ended, feeling her absence more acutely than ever. Eventually he stood, coming into the hall at the same time that Kat emerged from the bathroom.

"Hey," she said. "Sorry for drifting off."

He shrugged off her apology. "Sorry if I woke you."

She shook her head. "You didn't. Nature called."

He smiled. No filter. "You hungry?"

"Read my mind."

She looked over his shoulder, sweeping her eyes over his bedroom. A hint of a smile formed on her lips and she turned and headed down the hall toward the kitchen.

This time it was her silence that made him nervous. "What?" he asked warily, certain that he wouldn't like her response. Apparently he was a glutton for punishment.

"Nothing," she replied casually, opening the fridge and scanning the contents.

"Kat," he said flatly.

She gave him a lopsided smile. "You're not gonna like what I have to say."

"I know," he practically groaned.

She cocked her head to the side, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I just find it remarkable that you guys get an early morning wake up call, your bed is completely disheveled, yet somehow the futon is in pristine condition…nary a pillow in sight."

He paled, trying to figure out how to respond.

She winked, handing him a beer. "I have a feeling you're gonna want this right about now."

* * *

It was a little after seven when Fin returned to the precinct, Chinese food and a small duffle bag in hand. He set them down and went to find Cragen in his office. "Everything okay?"

Cragen nodded.

"Where's Liv?"

"Venting," he replied ambiguously.

Fin's brow furrowed in confusion. "Cap?"

"Pummeling the heavy bag in the gym." He paused to take a sip of lukewarm coffee. "Figured I'd steer clear," he added, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Fin nodded. "Good thing I know how to block," he deadpanned, turning and walking back to the squad room.

He picked up the duffle bag from his chair and headed toward the gym. He found her unleashing another series of punches upon the unsuspecting bag, sweat dripping down her body and over her already saturated sports bra. To the casual observer it might have appeared as though he were checking her out, but really what had frozen him on the spot was the sight of the bruises that riddled her frame – in particular, a nasty looking one on her torso that must have come from a sharply delivered kick to her side. Her hair was pulled back, leaving the column of her throat in full view, the strangulation marks a terrifying indication of at least one very close call. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to rid himself of the anger that he presumed was only a fraction of that which Elliot carried around with him.

He took a few steps into the room, finally making his presence known. "Hey," he said, dropping the duffle at his feet as she looked up at him and halted her attack.

"Hey," she replied, wiping the sweat from her forehead on the back of her arm.

He raised his palms in mock surrender. "I'm unarmed."

"Liar." She smiled, casting a glance at the weapon on his hip.

He smirked. "You'd be packing too if you were on this side of the equation."

"Oh yeah? What side is that?"

He arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. "The one facing the wrath of Badass Benson."

She breathed a laugh, working the gloves off of her hands. "Haven't heard that one in a while." She tossed the gloves to the side, taking a few large swallows from her water bottle.

"Yeah." He grinned. "Takes a brave man to say it to your face."

He tossed her a towel, watching as she used it to blot her face and neck. Try as he might to ignore them, he couldn't prevent his gaze from sweeping over her bruises once more. She looked up at him, stilling her movements, and he knew that she was aware of his focus. He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers.

"Sorry Liv."

"It's okay," she said, taking a seat on the bench. "To your credit, you've done a better job than most at pretending not to notice them."

He pressed his lips together, slowly coming to sit beside her. "I have some news that might make you feel better."

She raised her eyebrows while she finished taking another swig from the bottle.

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, his expression softening as he spoke. "Lara was extubated this morning. She's breathing on her own, Liv."

Olivia's eyes widened, a mixture of relief and incredulity spreading across her features. "Really?"

"Yeah. Doc said they're still giving her oxygen via nasal cannula, but she's holding her own."

"Oh, Fin," she breathed. "Thank you so much for the update."

He nodded.

"How…how did it go?"

"It was rough, but you were right to let Anya see her."

"I wish I could have been there for her."

"She's okay, Liv. A lot of tears, a lot of murmured words in Russian," he shrugged, "but she's okay."

Olivia nodded.

"I got Chinese takeout if you're interested," he said, trying to shift the focus.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm going to hop in the shower first, but that sounds good."

"Here," he said, leaning over and dragging the duffle toward them. "I swung by your place on my way back. Figured you could probably use a few things."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

He smiled. "Don't slug me. I promise I didn't look through your personal stuff… _much_."

She chuckled. "Thanks. I was pretty much scraping the bottom of the barrel."

They walked out together, and although Fin told her that he'd meet her in the squad room, he hovered in the hallway while she showered to make sure that no one entered the locker room. He was careful to be seated at his desk by the time she came to find him, knowing that it would only irritate her if she knew that he'd been standing guard.

She had pulled on a pair of faded jeans and an oversized Siena sweatshirt, looking decidedly more at ease.

"Thanks for these."

He nodded.

They ate in silence, automatically reverting to typical stakeout form – eating directly out of the containers and swapping them back and forth.

"Egg roll?" Fin offered as Cragen paused on his way out for the evening.

"No thanks." He made a sweeping gesture at the nearly empty squad room. "You two all set?"

Olivia nodded. "I promise I won't try to pull a fast one on him, Cap," she teased.

"Besides," Fin added, "I'm not above shooting her in the leg to stop her from getting away."

Cragen shook his head. "Good night," he replied dryly, continuing on his way.

Olivia glared at Fin. "Gee, thanks," she said, chucking her napkin at him.

He caught it and nonchalantly tossed it into the trash. "Tough love," he explained, raising his soda to his lips.

* * *

Kat watched Elliot's back from her vantage point behind the counter. He'd remained extremely quiet throughout dinner, and she guessed that his decision to busy himself with the dishes was another means for him to avoid the threat of conversation. She decided to hazard an attempt at putting his mind at ease.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah?" he replied, continuing his overly diligent efforts at drying the plate in his hands.

"You know I'd never say anything, right?"

His hands stilled and he set the plate and dishtowel to the side. He kept his back toward her, flattening his palms against the wood as he stared at the cabinet before him. "Kat, it's…it's complicated." He slowly pivoted to face her, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the counter.

She nodded. "Listen, I um…I don't know what exactly you guys went through on that undercover, but I saw her bruises when we changed."

His jaw clenched involuntarily, his expression drawn.

"I know that it must have been really hard…on both of you," she continued. "I um… I told Olivia that I'd been on my share of undercovers gone bad, and while I won't pretend to know what you're going through, I do know what it's like to have your world turned upside down."

He nodded, seeing the sincerity in her eyes.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that this stuff will really mess with your head…make you confront a lot of things. I…I've been there," she confessed quietly, holding his gaze. "Anyway," she shrugged, "you have enough things to worry about right now. I just want you to know that I'm not one of them." She smiled self deprecatingly. "Even if my observations _do_ give you headaches."

She grabbed her water and headed into the other room, giving him some time to process her words.

Eventually he finished putting the dishes away and walked into the living room, his hands in his pockets as he stood still and waited for her to acknowledge him.

She turned her head over her shoulder, a question in her eyes.

"So, uh…what do you say we fix up this 'pristine' futon?" he asked gently, extending the olive branch.

A broad grin lit up her features. "Sounds great."

* * *

"Read 'em and weep," Fin said, laying down a full house.

"Ugh," Olivia groaned, rubbing her fingers along her temples. "You give 'poker face' a whole new meaning."

Olivia was sitting cross legged on top of the table in the interview room, glaring down at Fin who was looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"I'm sorry…how many days does that make? I've lost track."

"Very funny," she gritted. "You're up to ten lunches on me."

"You sure it wasn't eleven?"

"Yes," she hissed, "but it will be if I play another hand."

He gathered the cards together, shuffling them like a card shark as he smirked to himself. "We could always change the stakes," he proposed, slowly looking her up and down and licking his lips suggestively.

She rolled her eyes. "You already got a taste of the merchandise earlier. It's not pretty, remember?"

Fin shook his head at her. "There's no way for me to answer that question without getting myself into trouble." He winked.

She smiled, running a hand through her hair and trying to stifle a yawn.

"Okay. Game over for you," he said.

She frowned. "You know, you're not _actually_ my sitter," she grumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're exhausted."

She sighed. "I won't be able to sleep anyway," she said quietly. "I might as well stay up and play cards all night."

"Humor me and at least try to catch a few? C'mon." He pushed his chair back, standing and offering her his hand to help her down. "If you still can't sleep we can come back here and I'll have you buying my lunch for the rest of the month."

She hopped down from the table. "Again. _Funny_."

They crossed the darkened squad room and headed up the stairs. Fin dragged a chair over so that he could position himself outside of the door.

"Okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Night, Fin."

"Night."

She made her way over to a bed at the far side of the room, lowering herself to sit as she pulled off her shoes. She lay down, staring at the ceiling. This was the time of day she had been dreading – when there was nothing left to distract her from her thoughts. She missed Elliot. She longed to be back at his apartment, safely wrapped up in his arms. It wasn't that she didn't feel safe at the precinct, but there was something about the comfort of Elliot's embrace, his warmth, his gentle caresses, that somehow managed to make everything else fade away.

She reached her hand into the pocket of her sweatshirt, pulling out her cell phone and ensuring that it was set to silent mode before moving her thumb along the keypad.

 _Send Message_

 _ **To:** **Elliot**_

 _You there?_

Not a minute passed before the screen illuminated, indicating his reply.

 _ **From:** **Elliot**_

 _10:47:53 PM_

 _I'm here. You okay?_

 _Send Message_

 _ **To:** **Elliot**_

 _I can't sleep. I hate the crib…_

 _ **From:** **Elliot**_

 _10:51:14 PM_

 _I know. I wish you were here beside me…_

She swallowed, a pang of sadness overwhelming her. She hesitated, her thumb poised above the keypad when the screen illuminated once more.

 _ **From:** **Elliot**_

 _10:52:09 PM_

 _Can you talk?_

She sighed, wishing more than anything in the world that she could.

 _Send Message_

 _ **To:** **Elliot**_

 _Probably not a good idea. Fin's right outside…_

Several moments later, the screen began to flash insistently, indicating an incoming call. She smiled, rolling onto her side and raising the phone to her ear.

"Elliot," she whispered as quietly as she could manage. "What are you-"

" _Shhh._ _Fin_ _'_ _s_ _outside."_

She heard the smile in his tone. "Making me laugh isn't going to help," she whispered slightly more emphatically.

He responded with a low chuckle that sent a rush of warmth through her.

She exhaled shakily. "El-"

" _Shhh,_ _"_ he soothed. _"_ _I_ _know_ _you_ _can'_ _t_ _talk…but_ _you_ _can_ _listen._ _I_ _just_ _want_ _to_ _stay_ _with_ _you_ _until_ _you_ _fall_ _asleep,_ _okay?"_

She swallowed, incredibly touched by the gesture. "Okay," she breathed.

" _How_ _are_ _you_ _lying?"_

"On my left side."

" _Am_ _I_ _facing_ _you?"_

She smiled. He would be if they were lying in his bed. "Yeah."

" _Okay._ _C_ _l_ _ose_ _your_ _eyes,"_ he murmured. He waited a few moments before continuing, his voice gentle and low. _"_ _I_ _move_ _closer_ _to_ _you_ _because_ _even_ _an_ _inch_ _apart_ _from_ _you_ _is_ _too_ _far_ _…_ _I_ _wrap_ _my_ _arm_ _around_ _you_ _and_ _rest_ _my_ _lips_ _against_ _your_ _forehead,_ _and_ _I_ _wonder_ _if_ _I_ _'_ _ve_ _ever_ _felt_ _more_ _peaceful_ _than_ _I_ _do_ _when_ _you'_ _re_ _in_ _my_ _arms…_ _I-_ _"_ His breath hitched, and when he spoke again his voice was unsteady. _"_ _I_ _wonder_ _why_ _you'_ _re_ _giving_ _me_ _this_ _gift_ _after_ _everything_ _I_ _'_ _ve_ _put_ _you_ _through."_

Olivia's eyes welled with tears. She longed to be able to hold him – to offer him the same comfort that he was providing her. She realized that he was giving her a glimpse of himself that he would ordinarily stoically keep inside, and she remained silent, fearing that any utterance on her part would break the spell.

He continued, slowly lulling her into a state of relaxation with his hushed tone. _"_ _I_ _feel_ _the_ _rise_ _and_ _fall_ _of_ _your_ _chest_ _against_ _mine_ _…_ _It_ _comforts_ _me_ _unlike_ _any_ _other_ _feeling…_ _I_ _run_ _m_ _y_ _fingers_ _through_ _your_ _hair…_ _You_ _n_ _e_ _stle_ _even_ _further_ _into_ _my_ _chest_ _and_ _I_ _smile_ _because_ _I_ _realize_ _that_ _you_ _love_ _it_ _when_ _I_ _do_ _that…because_ _I_ _realize_ _that_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _allowed_ _to_ _do_ _that…_ _I_ _keep_ _running_ _my_ _fingers_ _through_ _your_ _hair,_ _listening_ _to_ _your_ _breathing,_ _reminding_ _myself_ _that_ _you'_ _re_ _safely_ _beside_ _me_ _…_ _I_ _thank_ _God_ _for_ _granting_ _me_ _this…_ _I_ _feel_ _your_ _head_ _grow_ _heavier_ _against_ _my_ _arm_ _…your_ _breathing_ _slow_ _and_ _even…_ _I_ _think_ _back_ _to_ _all_ _of_ _our_ _years_ _of_ _partnership,_ _and_ _know_ _that_ _this_ _is_ _the_ _way_ _I_ _always_ _wanted_ _to_ _protect_ _you…_ _I_ _close_ _my_ _eyes,_ _praying_ _that_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _not_ _dreaming…"_

He trailed off, listening for any signs of stirring on the other end, but there were none.

" _Good_ _night,_ _Olivia,_ _"_ he murmured.

* * *

Fin straightened in his chair, immediately on edge. He thought he had heard her whimper softly in the next room. Suddenly she let out an anguished cry and he rushed inside, relieved when he found the room to be otherwise empty but pained by the understanding of the demons she confronted in her sleep. She was tossing and turning, tears streaming down her cheeks. He hesitated momentarily, but could not bear to see her in pain and quietly came to her side.

"Liv…Liv…"

"No!"

"Olivia," he called, finally placing a palm on her shoulder and shaking her lightly.

She sat bolt upright with a gasp, startling when she saw Fin beside her and pushing herself backward until she met the wall.

"It's okay. You're okay," he assured her, taking a seat on the adjacent bed.

Olivia continued to pant, casting a frantic glance around the darkened room. "Dammit," she breathed as she regained her bearings, leaning forward with her head in her hands.

Fin said nothing, giving her some time to collect herself.

She raised her head, turning to look at him with vulnerability in her eyes. "Please don't mention this to anyone. Please."

He shook his head. "Don't even think it."

She nodded, angrily swiping at the residual moisture on her cheeks. She sighed heavily, raking a hand through her hair. "I'm so tired of this," she said, looking toward the window.

"You need some air?" he offered.

She shot a questioning glance over her shoulder.

He raised his eyes, indicating the rooftop.

"Yeah." She looked almost relieved at the suggestion. "I think I do."

"Give me a sec."

She nodded, watching as he stood and left the room. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, slowly setting about putting on her shoes. She smoothed her hands over her hair, wondering if she'd ever reach a point at which she would no longer feel like such a basket case.

Fin returned a few minutes later with two cups of coffee in hand.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

She pushed herself to her feet and took the cup he was offering her. He held the door open, waiting for her to slip past him into the hall before following behind her. They emerged from the building into the crisp fall air, the chill a welcome change of pace after so many hours of lockdown. Fin remained on alert, scanning the adjacent rooftops for any signs of movement.

Olivia smiled. "Relax, Fin. Petrov's not going to use a sniper to take me out. It's not personal enough," she added dryly. "Considerate, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's your everyday Hallmark Gold Crown stalker."

She sighed. _When_ _you_ _care_ _enough_ _to_ _send_ _the_ _very_ _best._

Fin gestured to a spot in front of a cement structure, affording them some coverage while still giving them a view of the city lights. Olivia sat down, drawing her knees into her chest and leaning her back against the cement. Fin followed suit, lowering himself to sit to her right. They sat in silence, staring off into the distance and intermittently sipping their respective beverages.

"What time is it?" she asked after a while.

"A little after four."

She held onto her cup with both hands, the heat from the coffee permeating the thin barrier and warming her skin. "I'm starting to lose track of the time. It feels like months have passed, and it's only been a few days."

"We'll get this guy, Liv. He can't hide forever."

She shivered, unsure as to whether it was due to the cold or to the uncertainty of the way in which Petrov might choose to make his presence known.

Fin shrugged out of his jacket, coaxing her to lean forward as he draped the leather over her shoulders. She pulled it further around herself and he wrapped his arm around her, gently tugging her toward him so that she shifted and leaned against him.

"You tell anybody I let you do this and there'll be hell to pay," she warned sleepily.

He smiled. "You kidding? Like I'm gonna tell anybody I've gone soft," he grumbled playfully. "Besides, I'm cold." He gave her another squeeze with the arm that encircled her shoulders.

She chuckled, taking another sip of her coffee. A thought entered her mind, and the more she tried to ignore it, the more worried she became. "Fin?" she asked softly.

"Mmm?"

"I…I didn't say anything, did I? I mean…in my sleep?"

"You said 'no'."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, that was it."

"Okay."

He didn't press her to elaborate further, and she was grateful for it. They settled back into silence, listening to the sounds of the city.

* * *

Munch arrived at the precinct shortly after eight and found Fin and Olivia sitting in the squad room, nursing what must have been their third cup of coffee of the day.

"Morning," he said cheerfully, taking in their weary expressions.

"You're off the hook," Olivia said, shooting Fin a sidelong glance.

"Want me to stick around?" he asked her, indicating Munch with an incline of his head.

Olivia did her best to suppress her smile. "We'll be fine, thanks."

He nodded, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair and tossing the remnants of his coffee into the trash.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," Munch called after him.

Fin shook his head, disappearing around the corner.

Munch settled himself into his chair, listening as Olivia filled him in on the developments from the day before. Once he was up to speed, she excused herself, heading to the locker room to change. Regardless of the fact that she was technically off the clock, with more officers coming into the precinct, Olivia decided that she would feel more comfortable swapping her sweatshirt for a more professional looking sweater. It also afforded her the luxury of having a moment to herself, however short-lived.

She sifted through the contents of the bag Fin had brought for her, paying more attention than she had the night before and shaking her head as she noticed the choice of underwear Fin had selected from her drawer. She made a mental note of the need to smack him the next opportunity that presented itself. Thankfully, the choice of clothing he had selected was decidedly more appropriate. She changed into a royal blue scoop-neck sweater, figuring that it was pointless to try to continue to conceal the bruises that everyone already knew existed.

She pulled out her phone, intending to send Elliot a 'good morning' message when she was interrupted by several rapid knocks on the door.

"Liv?" Munch called anxiously.

She hurriedly came into the hall, taking in his worried expression.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Anya."

"What about her?" she asked as Munch ushered her down the hall.

"A rookie picked up the call. He has her on the line."

"Detective Benson?" the young officer asked as she approached.

"Yes," she replied, urgency in her tone.

"I'm having a hard time understanding her with the accent and all. She's hysterical – just keeps asking for you."

She nodded, taking the receiver from his hand.

"Anya? It's Olivia. Try to slow down."

" _Please,_ _please_ _help_ _me!_ _Please_ _come,_ _please!"_ She continued to sob, rattling off a stream of desperate pleas in Russian.

"Anya, what happened?"

She took in a shuddering breath. _"_ _He_ _is_ _coming_ _for_ _me!_ _O_ _h_ _God_ _…_ _oh_ _God!_ _Please_ _help_ _me,_ _"_ she sobbed.

"Who is coming for you, Anya?"

" _S-Sergei._ _"_

"Petrov?" she said worriedly, exchanging a glance with Munch.

" _Oh_ _God_ _…_ _He_ _will_ _kill_ _me!_ _Oh,_ _p_ _l_ _ease,_ _please_ _help_ _me!_ _"_

"Why is Petrov after you?"

" _Because_ _I_ _ran_ _…_ _I_ _r_ _an_ _and_ _now_ _he_ _knows!"_ she wailed.

"He knows where you are?" Olivia tried to follow her panicked explanation.

" _Y-yes._ _I_ _should_ _not_ _have_ _gone_ _to_ _find_ _her._ _Someone_ _must_ _have_ _seen_ _me_ _there._ _I_ _have_ _no_ _one._ _I_ _ha_ _v_ _e_ _nowhere_ _else_ _to_ _go!_ _Oh_ _God,_ _what_ _have_ _I_ _done?_ _"_

She was sobbing to such an extent that her words were almost unintelligible, and she seemed to be growing more frantic with every passing moment.

"Where are you now?"

" _B-Brooklyn._ _B_ _righton_ _Beach._ _The_ _apartment_ _of_ _m-my_ _friend."_

Olivia quickly jotted down the address on a nearby legal pad, tearing off the page and handing it to Munch. "Okay, I know that you're frightened, but I need you to listen to me, can you do that?"

" _Y-yes."_

"I'm going to put the officer back on the phone. I need to you stay on the line with him. Can you do that for me?"

" _No!_ _Please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _leave_ _me!_ _"_ she cried.

Olivia looked up at Munch, holding his gaze. "Anya, my partner and I are going to come and get you."

Munch begrudgingly nodded his assent.

"I need you to keep talking to the officer, okay?"

She didn't respond, her sobs merely intensifying.

"Anya, I need you to try to stay calm. We'll be there as soon as we can, okay?"

" _Okay,_ _"_ she whimpered.

Olivia covered the mouthpiece of the receiver with her palm, addressing the young officer before her. "Keep her talking. Try to get some more details – anything you can."

"Got it."

She turned to Munch, quickly walking with him down the hall.

"You want to tell me why it's a good idea for me to be taking you into the heart of the Russian mob?"

"In and out, John. I know what Petrov's capable of. She won't make it on her own."

"I know I don't need to tell you that you _should_ stay behind."

She stubbornly set her jaw. "I'm going – with or without a protective detail."

He shook his head. "I know… And if I were to tell you that we should wait to strategize with Cragen?"

"No time," she said firmly, resolutely walking toward the door. "I'll call him on the way."

* * *

Olivia closed her phone, her ear still ringing from the dressing down Cragen had given her. She sighed, leaning her head back against the seat.

"I take it that went well," he said, his eyes focused on the road.

"Good thing I was already on leave," she said wryly. "He's calling in a favor to his academy buddy in Kings County. He thinks Captain Magliano will agree to send us backup."

Munch nodded.

"Take the next left onto Oceanview Avenue," Olivia instructed, keeping her eye on the GPS display. "It should turn into Brighton 10th St."

Munch slowed down as the street curved to the left, scanning the numbers on the left hand side as Olivia looked to the right.

"There," he said pointing to a dilapidated brick building on the corner.

He pulled up to the curb, letting the engine idle as they scanned their environment for any overt signs of danger. They saw no signs of movement on the street, but that did nothing to quell their unease. Munch eventually turned off the engine, pulling the key from the ignition as he turned to face Olivia.

"You want to wait for backup?"

Olivia continued to scan the area, her eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. She thought she caught sight of a curtain falling back into place in the upstairs window of a neighboring building. "Something tells me this isn't a great place for us to hang around."

He shook his head.

They slowly exited the vehicle, their senses on overdrive. Something didn't sit right with either of them. There was something in the air – a stillness that seemed so pervasive that it could only be artificial. They said nothing to coordinate the effort, but simultaneously unholstered their weapons, walking by the rusted chain link fence and cautiously climbing the cement steps that led to the apartment.

The door was ajar and Olivia nudged it open with her shoulder, peering into the hall. Other than an overpowering stench of urine – animal or otherwise, there were no signs of life to be found. An old bicycle was propped up against the wall, the front wheel missing. Papers and flyers were strewn about the floor, and a number of black plastic garbage bags were overflowing with what appeared to be several weeks' old contents. A rickety wooden staircase led up to the second and final floor, and they carefully began their ascent, avoiding putting weight on the stairs that appeared cracked and liable to give way with minimal force.

Olivia paused outside of Anya's door, glancing at Munch who nodded to indicate his readiness.

"Anya?" she called with a light wrap of her knuckles against the door. "Anya, it's Olivia."

A moment passed before they heard the sound of the chain being released on the other side, the door cracking open as she met Olivia's gaze. She opened the door fully, backing up to permit them entrance. Anya was shaking, her eyes red and swollen and her shoulders jerking reflexively in the aftermath of so many hours worth of crying.

"It's okay," Olivia soothed. "We're going to take you somewhere safe."

Anya's chin quivered, her eyes welling with a renewed supply of tears. "There is nowhere safe." She gestured to a cardboard box on the table with a trembling hand.

Olivia moved closer, a wave of nausea coursing through her as she saw that it contained a dove, its neck snapped and twisted in a sickening angle and the pure white feathers marred by the crimson of its blood. She momentarily shut her eyes against the sight, turning away and coming to stand before Anya.

"When did you receive this?"

"Th-this morning. It was left outside of the door."

Olivia nodded.

"I should never have gone to find you…to find her…" she cried, erupting into another violent bout of sobs. "He will kill me…oh God…he will kill me…"

Olivia rested her palms on her shoulders, bending down slightly to look her in the eye. "Anya, listen to me. I need you to stay calm. We're going to get you out of here. Do you need anything from the apartment? Documents? Anything that you want to bring with you?"

"Y-yes," she managed, her chest heaving. "I-in the drawer in my bedroom."

"Okay, I'll help you. Come show me where."

Anya took in a shuddering breath and continued to sob but she pointed in the direction of the hall.

Olivia led the way, Anya and Munch following closely behind her. They were almost to the bedroom when the bathroom door swung open abruptly, slamming into Munch who fell to the ground. Olivia whirled around just in time to see Petrov emerge, kicking Munch's gun away from him before he could reach it and delivering a second forceful blow to his head with the steel toe of his boot. Olivia raised her weapon but just as she was poised to aim, strong arms grabbed her from behind, yanking her off balance and wrenching the gun from her hands.

Anya sobbed hysterically, her legs no longer supporting her weight as she started to slide down the wall, but Petrov grabbed her by her hair, pulling her against him and holding a knife to her throat.

Olivia kicked and bucked and did all that she could to break free from the man's grasp, but to no avail. Her heart was racing, her focus flitting back and forth between Munch's motionless form and Anya's wide, terror-stricken eyes.

"Let her go, Petrov," Olivia demanded, her voice sounding decidedly more steady than she felt. "Our backup is on the way. You'll never get away with this."

Petrov chuckled, pressing the blade more forcefully against Anya's flesh.

Anya whimpered, more tears streaming down her cheeks as she held Olivia's gaze, anguish in her expression. "Forgive me," she begged. "Forgive me…forgive me… for-"

Petrov drew the blade across her throat with a sickening slickness, and Olivia cried out in despair as she watched the life fade from Anya's beautiful green eyes.

Olivia renewed her struggle against the man's hold, but before she knew what was happening, his hand was over her nose and mouth, a cloth pressed tightly against her and obstructing her airway. She continued to fight for as long as she was able, but the room began to spin, her knees buckling beneath her. Petrov's sneer began to fade in and out of view, and before the darkness claimed her completely, she heard him snarl, "It was only a matter of time."


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter Note:_

 _Things are getting stressful, eh? Also, does anybody else miss flip phones? No? Just me?_

 _Music: "Bullet Boy" by Massive Attack_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen**

As the effects of the chloroform began to wear off, Olivia gradually became aware of the motion of the car. She felt groggy and disoriented, but the bumps in the road were jostling her about to such an extent that she intuited that they were traveling extremely quickly…but in what direction? The more her awareness returned, the more she began to panic, her thoughts racing as rapidly as her heart. Where were they taking her? How long had they been driving? She thought about Munch and the force with which Petrov had delivered the blow to his head. She did not know how gravely he had been injured, but imagined that at the very least it would take a while for him to regain consciousness. She wondered whether their backup had arrived, and a sickening doubt spread through her: Cragen said that he _t_ _hought_ Captain Magliano would agree to send officers to their location. What if he hadn't agreed? What if Cragen had been forced to send in his own people? Even with sirens blaring it would take them a while to navigate their way through the city traffic. God, did anybody even know that she was missing?

Her mouth had been taped shut, her arms and legs restrained, and it only heightened her anxiety at her loss of control. She started to feel claustrophobic and as she fought for air, she realized that the oppressive, musty smell that she had only dimly acknowledged until this point was emanating from an old blanket that had been thrown over her to conceal her from view.

She struggled to regulate her breathing. As of yet her captors were not aware that she had resumed consciousness and she planned to keep it that way for as long as possible. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and she gingerly tried to shift her weight ever so slightly to try to reach her cell phone without drawing attention to herself. Her arms ached as she fought against both the restraints and her own body weight. Every movement seemed too pronounced, every breath too harsh, and with every passing second her heart pounded more quickly at the fear of being discovered. It seemed like ages before her fingers finally made contact with the smooth plastic casing peeking out of her back pocket. Little by little she used her fingertips to nudge it upwards, beads of sweat dotting her brow and causing the filthy blanket to adhere to her skin. Finally she was able to extricate it from her pocket, but she froze when the crackle of a radio suddenly resounded from the front seat.

" _196,_ _Central._ _Wha_ _t_ _'_ _s_ _your_ _status?_ _…"_

The bastard had a police scanner. She began to wonder whether he had stolen the scanner, or whether he had managed to get hold of a squad car itself when a reality more terrifying suddenly became crystal clear:

"10-19…traveling northbound on the thruway, over."

" _10-4._ _"_

Petrov's accomplice was a cop. Maybe Smythe hadn't been a random pick after all. She tilted her head back, trying to get a glimpse of her surroundings from a small hole in the blanket, but she was unable to get a good view of the window. She shifted her focus, slowly turning her head to the side, and saw the unmistakable partition separating the front and backseats.

"Faster," Petrov commanded.

"Yes, sir."

More desperate than ever to impart this latest information to Elliot, she returned her attention to the cell phone. She swept her fingers along the surface, trying to visualize the keypad in her mind. It would have been a challenge had she been holding it directly in front of her, let alone behind her back and upside down. She almost wanted to cry from the futility of it all, but that would mean giving up, and she'd fought too long and hard to allow herself to give up now. She traced the two buttons on either side of the keypad, trying desperately to remember which one cleared the screen. Right…no…left. Left would bring her back to the main screen. She held down the button, her heart in her throat as she prayed that the phone was still set to silent mode. Thankfully there was no sound, and she could only hope that this meant that she was in the clear and not that the battery had died.

Step by step she tried to recreate the process, moving to the main menu, the message screen, the series of taps to create the letters needed to spell out the message that might end up being her only chance at communication with Elliot. She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut that told her that the slight brush of his fingers against her cheek would be the last contact they shared.

She pressed send – at least what she hoped was send, and was halfway tempted to call Elliot and keep the line open, but she was afraid that his voice might be audible from the front seat and decided against it. She set about replacing the phone in her pocket. Her fingers momentarily lost their grip and she reflexively jerked to prevent it from falling onto the seat. She froze, but it was too late. The movement was too abrupt, and it immediately caught Petrov's attention.

"Looks like she's coming to. Pull over."

"You want me to find a rest stop? Somewhere more secluded?"

"No. No time. You've already been missed."

Olivia listened anxiously as Petrov rummaged through the contents of the glove box and used the opportunity to hastily shove the phone back into her pocket. Petrov finally found what he was looking for and slammed the glove box closed again as the car slowed to a stop.

"Here," he said. "You're going to have to do it. I can't be seen."

Olivia tensed, adrenaline obstructing her attempts at slowing her breathing. If she could manage to hold her breath for long enough, maybe she could feign unconsciousness and evade the effects of the chloroform. She heard the driver open and shut his door, the muted sounds of his footsteps approaching the passenger side. He flung open the door by her head, a rush of cold air meeting her skin as he threw back the blanket just far enough to expose her face and shoulder. He leaned over her, chuckling at the panic in her eyes when she caught sight of the syringe in his hand. In that moment she knew that she was completely powerless. There was nothing she could do to gain the upper hand, and he knew it.

She struggled nonetheless, bucking and pulling at her restraints to no avail until he forcibly stopped her with an iron grip on her hair and jabbed the needle into her neck. She felt the burning sensation as the contents entered her system, and soon after, everything appeared to twist and churn around her. She fought the effects for as long as possible, trying to catch a glimpse of his badge number as he hovered above her.

"What's taking so long?" Petrov snapped.

"Just making sure it's kicking in."

"There was enough in that syringe to knock out someone twice her size. Let's go."

The officer nodded, an icy smirk on his face as he patted Olivia's cheek a couple of times. "Nighty night, sweetheart."

She frowned and shook her head in protest, struggling to keep her eyes open.

He tossed the blanket back over her, slamming the door and once again walking around the vehicle to take his place behind the wheel.

Olivia was losing the battle, struggling to pick up pieces of a conversation that seemed distorted and far away.

"Let's go," Petrov growled. "We've wasted too much time already."

"You sure you want to take her there?"

Petrov chuckled – a low, threatening sound that sounded all too similar to Nikolai's. "You know what they say…'hide in plain sight'."

The last thing Olivia heard was the officer's laughter as he pulled back onto the open road.

* * *

Kat turned off the faucet, gazing sleepily at the tiles as she wrung the excess water from her hair. She reached around the curtain, groping the air a few times before she found her towel. She pulled it back through the small opening, not yet willing to lose the warmth afforded her by the steam trapped within. It was only the start of the second day of their self-imposed house arrest, yet the ambiguous threat looming on the horizon had resulted in a predominantly sleepless night for the both of them. They had agreed to sleep in shifts, but Kat had spent most of hers trying to memorize the pattern of bumps in the plaster on the ceiling, and had heard Elliot tossing and turning enough times through the wall to know that he hadn't gotten much rest either.

She finished drying off and wrapped the towel around herself, stepping into the room and yawning for what felt like the umpteenth time. She could only imagine the level of exhaustion that Elliot and Olivia were combating. She dressed hastily, not wanting to occupy the bathroom for any longer than necessary. It couldn't be easy for him to be forced to share his personal space with a relative stranger, let alone someone who continually reminded him of the person he wished she could be. Elliot had done everything in his power to make her feel welcome, but she knew that he was counting down the hours until Olivia was once again safely at his side.

She emerged into the hallway a few moments later, and found him seated on the edge of his bed, staring off into space.

"It's all yours," she called from the door. "Sorry I took so long. I'm moving slowly this morning."

"It's okay. I'm not faring any better." He stretched and pushed himself up to stand.

Kat furrowed her brow. "Yeah, you look awful," she said matter-of-factly as he approached.

"Gee, thanks."

Kat didn't apologize for the statement. She figured his ego would survive the hit on its own. "You sure you don't want to try to catch a few more?"

He shook his head. "No point. Can't sleep."

"Hmm…" Kat pursed her lips, continuing to scrutinize his appearance. "I'll go make us some coffee."

He nodded, making his way uncoordinatedly into the bathroom, ricocheting off of the doorframe in the process. He let out a sigh of frustration, angrily moving the rest of the way inside and slamming the door behind him.

Kat jumped at the sound, but quickly realized the source and refocused her attention on preparing the coffee. The can of grounds was already sitting out on the counter, and she found the filters in the second cabinet she tried. She was liberal, to say the least, with the grounds, pouring in one heaping spoonful after the next. At this point, she figured that even if the coffee turned out to be so strong that they could chew it, it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Elliot leaned forward, studying his reflection in the mirror. He was in dire need of a shave, and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes only drew more attention to the redness within. He drew a hand along his jaw, wondering whether Olivia had been able to sleep through the night. He'd been feeling her absence more acutely than ever, and the start of another day of their forced separation did nothing to improve his mood.

His anger was just below the surface, second only to his concern for Olivia's well-being. It had taken the place of the adrenaline thrumming through his veins, barely contained as fatigue continued to steadily chip away at his resolve. He no longer saw his reflection. He saw Nikolai's…Petrov's…gradually becoming one and the same as Olivia's anguished cries echoed in his mind.

He turned away from the glass, jaw clenched and a tension headache starting to build. He threw back the shower curtain, flinging on the water and yanking his shirt overhead. He hoped that Petrov would take the bait. If he got his chance at the bastard, Petrov would learn the true meaning of pain and suffering.

He finished undressing and stepped beneath the hot spray. The water was scorching his skin, but he welcomed it. He needed something that was powerful enough to drag his focus away from the emotions running rampant in his mind.

In the kitchen, Kat listened to this hiss of the shower, the sound mixing with that of the water beginning to boil.

Neither she nor Elliot heard the soft buzz of his cell phone as it vibrated in the bedroom.

* * *

It was cold…dark. Her cheek was pressed against the hard cement floor. Her head was throbbing and her mouth was dry. Her ankles had been freed but her arms remained bound behind her back and had long since lost all sensation. She fought against her aching muscles to roll over onto her side, using her legs to move herself closer to the wall. She positioned herself so that her back was against it, using it as leverage to help get her torso up off the ground. She shakily pushed herself up to sit, her head throbbing in protest. She squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them, blinking a few times in the hopes that it was only a matter of time before her eyes adjusted to the darkness, but as the minutes stretched on, so did the unforgiving blackness that engulfed her.

She strained her ears to detect any signs of her captors, but could hear nothing but the sounds of her rapid breathing. Her now upright position was causing the feeling to return to her arms with a vengeance, and she attempted to distract herself from the pain by searching for something that she might be able to use to free herself from her restraints. She felt for her cell phone, but it was gone. She hadn't deluded herself into actually believing it would be there, but the confirmation that her last link to the outside world had been taken from her only served to make her feel that much more isolated. With no source of light to guide her, she inched herself along the wall, eventually finding a rough patch of cement in the corner of the room. She tried to angle herself in a way that would allow her to work at cutting through the layers of duct tape on her wrists while doing the least amount of damage to herself in the process. After a seemingly interminable amount of time, she finally succeeded in breaking through the tape enough to be able to wrench her arms the rest of the way apart, but only after having scraped her wrists against the cement so many times that they were both raw and bleeding.

She grimaced as she peeled the tape off the rest of the way – first her wrists, then her lips – her eyes burning with tears that she refused to shed. She closed her eyes, trying to forget about the fact that she was unable to see her surroundings…trying to forget about the fact that she was caught in the middle of a waking nightmare. She needed to stay calm.

" _Think_ _like_ _a_ _cop,_ _Liv,_ _not_ _a_ _vic,_ _"_ she told herself.

She leaned her head back against the wall, taking a moment to catch her breath from the exertion. She was still foggy from the lingering effects of the drug in her bloodstream and she tried to do everything in her power to push her emotions aside and think rationally.

She had no way of knowing how long she had been unconscious, but she told herself that by now Cragen and the others must at least know that she was missing. Yes. Backup or no backup, they had arrived on the scene. Elliot must have read her text message by now, and Cragen would have already deployed an army of officers to her location. Munch was undoubtedly on his way to the hospital, and CSU would have been called for Anya.

God, Anya. Olivia vividly recalled the sounds of her cries, the anguished look in her eyes, and the blood… So much blood had poured from her before her lifeless body had crumpled to the floor. Petrov was different than Nikolai in that respect. While Nikolai would have prolonged the torture, trapping Anya and Olivia in the limbo of the unknown, Petrov had gotten rid of Anya as soon as he no longer had use for her. He was impulsive…indifferent…and Olivia had no idea what that meant in terms of his plans for her.

She shivered, running her hands up and down her arms, and it was only then that she realized with sickening clarity that her watch was gone. The failsafe that she had protested against so vehemently was gone, and now they would have no way of finding her. They _weren'_ _t_ rushing to her location, because they had absolutely no idea where she was.

Her eyes flew open in a panic, and she was once again met by the pervasive darkness. She had to find a way out. Without the hope of rescue, she could only rely on herself. She could do this. She could find a way to escape.

She shakily got to her feet, feeling along the wall as she searched for a door. Step after step she made it along the full length of one wall and came to another corner. She continued, blindly feeling her way until she felt the cold, smooth metal of a doorframe. She found the doorknob, but there was no lock to pick – at least not on her side. The knob did not turn, and when she used all of her strength to push and pull against it, the door didn't even budge enough to make it rattle against the frame. She moved further to the side, running her hands along the door in search of any glass pane or other prospective point of weakness, but she was only met by solid metal…chillingly familiar solid metal.

Her breath hitched, her heart and mind racing as she told herself that it was just a coincidence – that her mind was playing tricks on her. She spun around, choking back a sob as she tried in vain to scan her surroundings, feeling more frantic with every passing second. She turned back to the door, continuing to feel around the wall until she returned to the spot from which she started. There was nothing – no points of weakness, nothing but four walls and the door. She continued to hug the wall, stumbling in the opposite direction again until she reached the door, pounding her fists against it as the tears began to fall freely. She slammed her full body weight against it a couple of times, but knew even before the pain radiated through her shoulder that it was futile. She whimpered, clutching onto her shoulder and turning to face the center of the room.

She tried to get up the courage to move forward, all the while knowing in her gut that what lay before her would be a confirmation of her worst fear. After several paralyzing minutes, she extended shaking arms out in front of her, feeling the air as she took a few steps forward…and then a few more…until her shins collided with an object in the center of the room and she pitched forward onto her outstretched hands.

The mattress.

 _No!_ _Please_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _do_ _this!_ _Please_ _let_ _me_ _go!_

The room.

 _There'_ _s_ _no_ _way_ _out…_

She pushed herself back, collapsing to her knees as she gasped for breath, her chest heaving violently as she sobbed.

 _You_ _didn'_ _t_ _think_ _I_ _'_ _d_ _let_ _this_ _little_ _party_ _end_ _so_ _soon,_ _now_ _did_ _you?_

She scrambled away from the mattress, retreating to the far corner of the room. She drew her knees into her chest, her entire body trembling.

 _This_ _place_ _doesn'_ _t_ _exist._ _People_ _disappear_ _here_ _all_ _the_ _time._

The club had been secured. There was no need for them to return. Even if there had been, Cragen would have called up to the local precinct – and most likely Petrov's accomplice would have volunteered to check things out. Olivia shuddered, terror and hopelessness threatening to consume her.

She didn't believe in a higher power, but she believed in Elliot, and she prayed that he would find her. She thought back to the last embrace they shared in his apartment, trying to remember the feeling of safety she had found in his arms.

 _Can_ _you_ _hold_ _onto_ _this?_

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to cling to the memory, but it abandoned her too, evaporating into the blackness. All that she was left with were echoes of a night that she had done everything in her power to put behind her; the demons that had previously tormented her in slumber were now flooding her consciousness, assaulting her in her cold cement prison.

* * *

"I thought I'd lost you for good," Kat said, handing Elliot a cup of quasi-sludge when he finally emerged from the bathroom.

Elliot took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness that was almost chalky on his tongue. He looked into the mug, tilting it to inspect the contents before looking back at her disapprovingly.

"Hey, now," she said, raising her palms. "If that doesn't wake you up, nothing will."

He braced himself and took another sip, grimacing just as much the second time. "Okay," he said, his voice rough with fatigue. "I'm now convinced that you're trying to poison me."

Kat folded her arms across her chest, regarding him flatly. "Are you always this dramatic in the morning?"

He ignored her, taking one last gulp before pouring the rest down the sink. "Next time? _I_ make the coffee."

She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the jarring sound of her cell phone ringing in her coat pocket. Both Elliot and she snapped their heads in its direction, and she quickly made her way across the room to retrieve it.

"Bailey," she answered, her eyes darting over to meet Elliot's before she dropped her gaze to the floor.

Elliot remained motionless in the kitchen, his heart in his throat as he watched all of the color drain from her face.

"When?" Kat tilted her head forward, her hair hiding her face from view. "No…I…we're fine. What do-" She was apparently interrupted, and she rubbed a hand back and forth along her forehead. "But-" She sighed, unable to get a word in edgewise. "Yes, sir. I understand."

She slowly lowered the phone from her ear, her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned to face him.

"What?" he asked with urgency.

She hesitated, trying to figure out what to say.

This only increased Elliot's irritation. "Kat, what the hell happened?" he snapped, his voice rising.

She took a breath and exhaled shakily, trying to keep her voice low and steady. "Elliot, it's Olivia... She's missing."

He was around the counter and in front of her in less than two seconds. "What do you mean she's missing? What the hell are you talking about?" he yelled.

She flinched, but continued to hold his gaze, concern and regret in her eyes. "She responded to a call into the precinct this morning. It was Anya, and they went to Brooklyn to-"

"Brooklyn? Where the fuck was John?" he interrupted, fists clenched at his sides.

"Backup was on its way, but by the time they got there-"

"How long?"

"I-"

He took another step toward her. "How fucking long?"

She backed up a pace. "I-I don't know."

He spun away from her, frantically rifling through his belongings in search of the PDA. He finally found it, jabbing the button repeatedly trying to get the screen to respond. "Damn it!"

"Let me try," Kat's voice quietly responded behind him.

When he didn't turn around, she tentatively placed one hand on his arm, using the other to ease the PDA from his grasp.

He ultimately allowed her to take it, rubbing his hands over his face and pacing around the living room like a caged animal. Then in a flash he was tearing down the hallway toward his bedroom, yanking the covers off of his bed until he found his cell phone. One missed call: Cragen. He scrolled to the next alert and felt his heart drop into his stomach when he discovered her text message:

 _From: Olivia_

 _ **10:09:16AM**_

 _Petrovs comnected. Cop. Squadcar mmorthbound. Thruway. Munch hurt. Anyadead. I'm sorry._

"Jesus," he said aloud, slamming his palm against the wall.

10:09am.

Over an hour and a half ago.

He turned to find Kat immobilized in the doorway, watching him with a mixture of empathy and unease.

"Call Cragen," he instructed, his voice cracking. He couldn't bring himself to close Olivia's message on his screen.

Kat nodded, scrolling through her contacts to find the number and crossing the threshold to bring him the phone.

Elliot took it from her, tilting his own screen to show her the message. Her eyes widened and darted back up to meet his anguished gaze.

"Cap-"

" _Elliot,_ _I_ _'_ _ve_ _got_ _everyone_ _on_ _this._ _We_ _'_ _ll_ _find_ _her._ _"_

"She managed to send me a text message."

" _Anything?"_ Cragen's voice held the same urgency as his own.

"She said she was in a squad car traveling northbound on the thruway. That Petrov was connected to someone on the inside – a cop."

" _When?"_

"It was uh…it was sent a little after 10:00am. I-" Elliot exhaled shakily, trying to maintain his control. "I only got it now."

" _Okay._ _E_ _lliot,_ _I_ _'_ _ll_ _put_ _TARU_ _on_ _it,_ _but-_ _"_

"But what?" Elliot gritted, sensing his hesitancy.

" _I_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _know_ _how_ _accurate_ _that_ _intel_ _is._ _"_

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

" _Elliot,_ _she'_ _s_ _traveling_ _southbound._ _Check_ _the_ _PDA._ _"_

He looked over at Kat. "PDA?"

She shook her head apologetically, holding it up to show him the garbled mess on the screen.

" _Elliot?_ _"_

He let out a laugh devoid of all humor. "We can't. The damn thing is fried."

" _They'_ _re_ _well_ _into_ _New_ _Jersey._ _We_ _'_ _re_ _going_ _to_ _head_ _them_ _off._ _"_

Elliot shook his head. Something didn't sit right with him. "Nah, Cap. I don't buy it."

Cragen sighed.

Elliot slammed his fist against the wall, causing a picture frame to crash to the ground. "It's Olivia! She wouldn't have sent us information based on guesswork."

" _Not_ _intentionally,_ _no,_ _but_ _it_ _'_ _s_ _…"_ He hesitated. _"Elliot,_ _it_ _'_ _s_ _likely_ _that_ _she_ _may_ _not_ _have_ _been_ _lucid._ _John_ _has_ _severe_ _head_ _trauma._ _You_ _and_ _I_ _both_ _know_ _that_ _Olivia_ _wouldn'_ _t_ _have_ _gone_ _without_ _a_ _fight."_

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, assailed by a flood of images of what might have taken place.

"Cap, it's…it's Liv."

Cragen paused, knowing that his senior detective was hanging on by a very thin thread. _"_ _I_ _know._ _"_

Elliot said nothing, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat.

" _Stay_ _put._ _W_ _e_ _'_ _ll_ _find_ _her._ _"_

Elliot stared down at Olivia's message, reading her words again and again and again…

" _Elliot?_ _"_

Northbound.

" _Elliot?_ _"_ Cragen repeated more sharply.

Thruway.

" _Detective,_ _are_ _you_ _hearing_ _me?_ _"_

Elliot narrowed his eyes. "No," he said resolutely. "I'm going north."

He snapped the phone shut, thrusting it into Kat's hand as he swiftly walked past her into the hall.

Kat sighed, pivoting on her heel and chasing after him.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" she challenged.

"Stay out of it, Bailey," he returned, never slowing his pace.

The deliberate use of her last name wasn't lost on her, and it pissed her off. "So what – you think I'll just stand aside and let you go off half-cocked on your own?"

He chuckled dismissively at the implication that she could, in any way, stop him from walking out the door. He ignored the question, continuing to focus his attention on putting on his boots.

She bristled at the brush-off. "You know what, Stabler? Fuck you."

That stopped him.

He glared at her. "Excuse me?"

She raised her chin defiantly. "I put my ass on the line for you – for Olivia. Don't you dare treat me like I don't even have the right to a simple explanation."

Her face was flushed in anger, her arms folded across her chest, and this coupled with the scowl etched in her features reminded him of Olivia. Under any other circumstances, he would have found the resemblance amusing.

He sighed, moving to pull on his jacket, but ultimately giving her the answer she deserved. "She said she was traveling northbound on the thruway. Not parkway, not interstate, not turnpike, _thruway_. There's only the one."

Kat nodded, processing his reasoning. "Northbound to where?"

He paused, looking down at the floor, and Kat immediately saw the crack in his resolve.

"What does your gut tell you?" she offered quietly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a wave of hopelessness crashing over him. His gut was telling him that they were already too late. "I don't know anymore," he rasped.

Kat fought back her own tears at the despair in his tone, and did her best to keep him focused. "Somewhere Petrov would feel safe," she thought aloud. "Somewhere familiar?"

He cleared his throat, inhaling deeply. "Yeah," he agreed. "There's…there's an old house up in the Catskills…where Nikolai held Lara."

"Sounds like a good place to start," Kat said, trying to force optimism into her tone and moving in front of him to grab her own jacket from the hook.

Elliot took hold of her arm. "Kat, I'm uh…you'd be going against a direct order."

She shrugged, a mischievous smile lighting up her features. "Hasn't ever stopped me before."

* * *

Half an hour later, they were barreling along the thruway at breakneck speeds. Elliot glanced over at Kat when he got to an open stretch of road, and saw that she was clutching the armrest for dear life, alternately squeezing her eyes shut or flinching as they flew by potential obstacles in their midst.

"You alright over there?" he asked.

"Uh-huh."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to crash."

"Famous last words," she muttered under her breath.

He smiled despite the tension in the air. "Trust me."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

His expression darkened at her words. He wasn't sure if he trusted himself at this point. All that he could see was Olivia. He could very well be driving them on a wild goose chase, or he could be driving them directly into Petrov's web. He didn't care about the consequences for himself, but that didn't mean that he wanted to bring Kat down with him.

"Why _are_ you trusting me on this?" he asked softly.

She didn't respond right away, staring out of her window at the blurry landscape. She shrugged, choosing her words carefully. "You know your partner."

His hands tightened around the steering wheel, several long minutes passing before he spoke again. "You know it's more than that."

She turned her head over her shoulder, quietly studying his expression, the tension in his body, and the haunted look in his eyes that he had attempted to mask ever since they had received the phone call.

"And you think that changes my mind?"

"It should."

She shook her head, facing forward once more. "I have enough clarity for the both of us."

"Kat-"

"Not your decision to make," she cut him off with an air of finality, tensing as he weaved in and out of the traffic. "As long as you keep your eyes on the road, we'll be just fine."

* * *

Silence had descended upon them long before they neared their destination, but as they slowly navigated their way along the winding dirt road, the silence had transformed into something all encompassing and tinged with foreboding. Elliot was reliving the memories of the last time he'd set foot inside of this hellhole: the first time they'd laid eyes on Lara…the sight of Olivia being dragged to the ground. A pang of nausea coursed through him at the thought of what she might be put through if they didn't find her – what she might already have been put through.

They drove around another curve and finally saw the house in the distance. Kat had already unholstered her sidearm and was carefully scanning the area for any signs of movement, and while Elliot noted that there were no cars or other signs of life immediately visible, this did little to put his mind at ease. The dense woods provided a natural means to conceal anything or anyone that did not want to be found. Petrov had managed to use this to his advantage to evade capture the last time.

Elliot slowed to a stop several feet in front of the house and turned off the engine. They exited the vehicle, weapons drawn, cautiously moving forward as they continued to scan the periphery. When they reached the door, they immediately saw that the police tape had been carefully cut along the inside of the frame, permitting access without drawing attention to itself from afar.

They exchanged a quick glance, Kat nodding as she turned to provide coverage. Elliot tried the doorknob, and when it didn't turn he promptly backed up a few paces and broke the lock with one forceful kick. They entered on high alert, moving back to back as they scanned the broken staircase before them, the landing above them, and the vacant rooms still trashed from the raid several nights prior. The broken windows had been boarded up, obstructing the little daylight that might have otherwise filtered through and making it difficult to discern the sources of shapes in the shadows.

Kat motioned for them to split up, raising her eyes toward the stairs. Elliot nodded, gesturing toward the back of the house that he knew would grant him access to the basement. Kat nodded her assent, cautiously climbing the stairs that seemed entirely too rickety to support her weight.

Elliot made his way through the kitchen and slowly proceeded down the basement stairs, carefully feeling his way until he reached the bottom. He had no flashlight, so he searched the air until he found the chain dangling overhead, tugging on it to bring his surroundings into view. He blinked against the brightness, spinning around to examine the area until he was sure that it was empty. Only then did Elliot lower his weapon, struggling to cope with the vestiges of the carnage that surrounded him.

He could have lost her that night. He almost had. Olivia had willingly put her life on the line for Lara's – as always, her compassion for others surpassing her regard for her own physical and emotional well-being. He could have lost her. And when he'd finally been able to hold her, he'd vowed that he would never let her go…and he had let them both down.

She wasn't there.

He'd been wrong.

He heard footsteps on the stairs, but didn't turn around. It no longer mattered. His instincts for self-preservation had been snuffed out by the overwhelming ache within.

"Jesus," Kat breathed as she took it all in: the bloodied mattress, the outlines of the bodies that once littered the floor.

She turned to look at Elliot who remained motionless, staring down at the mattress, his gun dangling limply from his palm. She approached him slowly, as if any sudden movements on her part would cause him to break apart. And then he spoke, his voice containing so much pain and grief that she realized that she might break apart right along with him.

"I don't know where she is," he murmured, his expression stricken.

Kat tentatively placed a palm on his shoulder blade, not knowing what to say to a man who was faced with the realization that he may have lost his soulmate.

His breathing became ragged and he brushed his forearm along his brow. "Christ, I don't know where she is." His voice broke and he angrily swiped at the hint of moisture in the corner of an eye.

Kat removed her hand, raking her fingers through her hair. "Elliot, there's…there's something you need to see."

He immediately spun around to face her, fear in his eyes.

She shook her head. "She's not here. It's not that," she placated.

He nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat, finally remembering to breathe again as he began to follow her up the stairs.

They made their way through the darkened rooms, an oppressive feeling of melancholy in the air. When they reached the staircase leading to the second floor, Kat stepped aside, gesturing for him to go ahead of her.

"I um…I avoided stepping on the ones that were visibly broken, but if you stay close to the wall, you should be okay."

He nodded, slowly navigating his way as Kat watched from below. She waited until he reached the landing before starting to climb. Elliot extended his hand as she neared the top, pulling her up the last few steps so that she wouldn't have to make any more contact with the rotting wood than necessary. She attempted a smile in response, but the tension remained indelibly etched in her features.

Elliot furrowed his brow, unable to read her, and beyond worried to find out what it was that had shaken her so badly.

She inclined her head, indicating a door that had been left slightly ajar on the right side of the hallway.

He swallowed, moving toward it with an outstretched palm and pushing it open to bring the room into view. His breath hitched, his eyes wide as he numbly continued to move forward. Photographs and newspaper articles had been plastered all over the walls – of him and Olivia, of Lara, of the raid on the house, the club…every piece of documentation on the ongoing investigation. It was all there like a patchwork quilt of obsession and calculated revenge.

Elliot moved closer to examine them, his stomach churning more and more as he realized just how closely Petrov had been monitoring their every move. There were shots of Olivia and him walking to her apartment, the very next day after the undercover op. There were shots of them on the rooftop…of their exit from his apartment building – close-ups that could only have been taken from amid the throng of reporters.

Elliot moved further along the wall, finding images of him and Kat returning to his apartment, her face effectively shielded by his palm, yet Petrov had zoomed in on a couple of the images, and Elliot immediately noticed the source of Petrov's interest: one very clearly showed the faint traces of the blade that had scarred Olivia's neck, and one showed that it was just as noticeably absent.

Gitano.

In the end, his actions had proved more catastrophic than they could have ever anticipated.

Petrov had not fallen for their ruse. The scar was barely visible above the collar of her sweater, but it was there, and Petrov had immediately recognized the deception. While they had been biding their time, Petrov had found his way to Olivia: A series of photographs showed Fin escorting a frail, battered young woman into Westchester Medical Center, and directly beside those were shots taken as she had nervously returned to her apartment.

There were no other photographs beyond this. Petrov had no longer needed to have them followed. He had known that Olivia would never be able to keep herself away from Lara's last connection to her mother.

Elliot exhaled shakily, shifting his gaze to the far side of the room where Petrov had managed to assemble a workstation comprised of a laptop connected to a couple of monitors and other assorted pieces of equipment. The screens were dark, but as Elliot approached, he saw that the system was still on. He glanced at Kat who had remained in the doorway, her gaze trained at her feet, and he realized that it hadn't been the photographs that she'd needed him to see; it was whatever was contained on the hard drive.

He tapped a random key to bring the screens to life, and his world came to a screeching halt.

He was watching himself slam Olivia against the wall.

That night…her assault…they had captured it all.

Petrov had looped the footage, playing and replaying Olivia's assault on multiple screens, at multiple speeds, watching Elliot and Nikolai violate her over and over again.

Elliot gripped onto the desk to steady himself, watching as the loops played out in front of him as unremittingly as the memories that plagued his mind. He was throwing her onto the mattress, pinning her down, forcing her legs apart as she begged him to stop. He was standing aside as Nikolai trailed his gun down her body…as he pushed it inside of her. He was trapping her, preventing her from escaping as she tried to scramble away…ripping off her clothes…hurting her again and again and again.

He wanted to look away but couldn't bring himself to do so, because he was finally seeing himself the way Olivia had. He was watching her fear of him – her loss of trust in him – materialize before his eyes.

"Elliot?" Kat tried to reach him.

God what had he done? He had lost her. She would never know… She would never know how it could have been…how it _would_ have been between them.

They had needed time. Time to heal. Time to love.

This had been stolen from them.

" _Elliot._ _"_

He exploded in an outburst that was a mixture of anguish and rage, letting out a strangled roar as he lashed out with a forceful sweep of his arm, propelling the monitors to the ground. He picked up the laptop and hurled it across the room, overturning the desk and kicking the remnants of electronics at his feet so that they skidded across the floor until they hit the wall.

"Elliot!" Kat yelled, ultimately grabbing onto his arm to try to slow him down.

He tried to shrug her off, but did it so abruptly that she staggered back a few feet, her arm darting out to brace herself against the wall.

His hands immediately flew to his head when he realized what he'd done, pacing and turning in circles as he apologized for his loss of control. "Kat, I'm sorry. God, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," she said quietly as she slowly approached him once more.

"Are you…did I-"

"I'm fine." She looked at him with pure empathy in her eyes, repeating her words for his benefit when he looked as though he thought that he'd truly become the monster on Petrov's screens. "I'm _fine._ Okay?"

His chest was heaving, a wild look in his eyes as he struggled to keep himself together.

Kat folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head to the side. "Listen, I'm all for smashing this crap to smithereens, but I'd rather find out if it contains anything useful before you do it, okay?"

He didn't respond, but he hadn't moved a muscle, so she figured this was a sign of acceptance.

"Are you still with me?"

He rubbed his fingers along his temples, squeezing his eyes shut as he started to process all that Kat had seen.

"God knows what you must be thinking of me right now."

"Elliot-"

"What you saw…what I did…I-"

"Elliot, you did what you had to do."

He reopened his eyes, forcing himself to meet her gaze. " _No_ _one_ can ever see that. Not…not for my sake, but for Olivia's. If she knew that people had watched her…" he trailed off.

"Stop. Don't even go there." Kat shook her head.

He turned away from her, drawing a hand along his jaw as he stared at the photographs that covered the wall. "She's…she's so strong, and I made her feel…"

Kat heard the defeat in his tone and knew that it was only a matter of time before he gave up completely. "Don't do this to yourself," she gently urged. "It's not-"

They both froze.

It was barely audible, but they both heard the faint rumble of a car in the distance.

Elliot swiftly moved to the window, peering through the blinds as a squad car came into view.

"Silent alarm?" Kat wondered aloud.

"Not sure," he shook his head. "Maybe."

The car slowed to a stop, and after a few moments a uniformed officer emerged. He took his time, taking a long drag on a cigarette before flicking it to the ground. He was tall, medium build, and the nonchalant way that he began to stroll up to the house implied a mixture of indifference and self-assurance that inevitably stemmed from power. Elliot scanned the interior, but as far as he could see, there were no other occupants in the vehicle.

"Stay out of sight," he said as Kat approached the glass.

Kat opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

"It's my car – my plates. He may think I'm alone," he explained.

He turned to face her, and a cold feeling of dread spread through her when she saw the look in his eyes – detached, unyielding. "What are you doing?" she asked warily. "Elliot?" she stressed when he did not answer.

He looked toward the door with a hardened expression, refusing to look her in the eye.

Kat shook her head slightly, more to herself than to him. "Don't do this," she urged, the tremble in her tone telling him that she already knew full well that her efforts were futile.

He shoved his hand in his pocket, removing his keys and finally meeting her gaze as he took hold of her wrist, pulling it toward him and depositing the keys in her upturned palm.

She blew out a puff of air, trying to conceal the fact that she was scared shitless under the guise of frustration. "God damn you for putting this on _m_ _e_ ," she breathed.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, and whether it was an admission of guilt or an attempt at an apology, she wasn't sure.

"This is what Petrov wanted," he replied softly. "It's the only way to get to Liv."

"You assume," Kat spat, feeling her eyes start to burn.

"He wants me alive."

From downstairs, they heard the squeal of the rusty hinges as the front door was slowly opened, followed by heavy footsteps that stopped just inside the entryway.

"Detective Stabler," the man's voice bellowed throughout the empty space.

Elliot set his jaw, decisively moving into the hallway and casting one last glance in Kat's direction before descending the stairs. His pace slowed as he sized up the officer before him, eventually stopping at the foot of the staircase a few feet away.

"Sergeant Kane," the man said, extending his hand with a wry smile.

Elliot ignored the gesture, regarding him coolly and narrowing his eyes in challenge. "I think we can forego the pleasantries, don't you?"

Kane chuckled icily. "As you wish," he returned, gesturing to his sidearm as he withdrew his hand.

Elliot raised his arms out to the sides, not putting up any protest as he allowed Kane to disarm him.

Kat watched from above as Kane escorted Elliot to the car, waiting for him to get in the back before calmly taking his place behind the wheel.

Elliot was putting both of their lives in her hands and she had never felt more out of control. She was in the middle of nowhere. She had no way of knowing who among the local officials might be corrupt, yet any reliable backup was miles and miles away. Without any clues as to where Kane was headed, her only option was to try to tail them, but how she would manage not to draw attention to herself in such a deserted area was beyond her. She raised her cell phone to her ear with a shaking hand, simultaneously stumbling to pick up Petrov's laptop as she hurried toward the stairs.

" _Cragen._ _"_

"Sir, we have a problem."


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter Note:_

 _Things are not looking good for our favorite detectives... **CAVEAT:** Stormy seas ahead! Petrov is looking for revenge, and he is as twisted as Nikolai... If you read on, please be prepared for difficult themes and disturbing content._

 _This chapter was originally posted following a difficult time in my real life. "Conc3p", "Mousie962", "Wonderwait", and "MaddyM" (aka "Lyricara") got me through it. I am forever grateful for the support and the real life friendships._

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen**

"You were fools to think that you could gain the upper hand. You have no idea who you're dealing with. It was only a matter of time before he found her."

Elliot said nothing, glaring at him in the rearview mirror.

"The body on that one…mmm. She's just begging for it."

Elliot's hands balled into fists. "So help me, if you've harmed one hair on her head…"

"You'll what?" Kane snickered, returning his eyes to the road. "You're hardly in the position to be making idle threats."

Elliot breathed a derisive laugh through his nose, trying to project an air of confidence despite his internal panic. "If you only knew the size of the shit storm headed your way…"

Kane glanced back up, holding Elliot's unflinching gaze as if trying to determine whether or not there was any truth to his words. "You're lying," he snarled. "Your backup has been traveling hours in the wrong direction."

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "Only time will tell," he challenged.

If Kane was concerned, he didn't let on, and set about trying to goad him instead.

"Nice touch – trying to turn your girlfriend into some sort of homing pigeon. Too bad the watch ended up on the wrong wrist." He smirked. "I wonder how long it will take them to figure out that they've been following a corpse."

Elliot didn't respond, continuing to glare at Kane before turning to look out of his window. They had been traveling southeast for a good hour with no signs of stopping, but as the road signs sped in and out of view, Elliot suddenly knew with sickening clarity exactly where they were headed.

Newburgh.

The warehouse.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath.

Petrov had been right under their noses the whole time, and his connections to the local police meant that Kane and God knows how many others on the force were more than willing to report back to the 1-6 that the club remained secured.

He bit back the bile rising in his throat at the realization that Olivia had been trapped in that hellhole for a good five hours without any hope of rescue. The psychological impact of that alone would be enough to push anyone over the edge, let alone whatever else she might have been subjected to. He prayed that Kat had figured out a way to tail them. At the very least, he knew that she would have passed along the description of the vehicle and plates to Cragen.

If Kat _was_ tailing them, he didn't want to take the risk of making Kane suspicious by glancing behind them, but he cast his gaze upward, scanning the horizon and wishing more than anything that a chopper would suddenly materialize before his eyes.

" _Only_ _time_ _will_ _tell,"_ his words echoed in his mind. The fact that they were traveling further south had shaved off precious miles between them and civilization, but it did little to put his mind at ease. He knew that they were now ten miles, at most, from the club.

Time was running out and it was not in their favor.

* * *

"Asshole, asshole, _asshole_ ," Kat cursed under her breath, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that she wondered whether it would break off in her hands. It might as well have been his neck. If Stabler got out of this one alive, she was going to kill him herself.

She accelerated until the cruiser in front of her was no bigger than the size of an ant and then eased up on the gas again.

She had almost lost them when she finally emerged from the maze of wooded back roads to find a T-junction with no sign of them in either direction. She had arbitrarily picked left for lack of any better idea, but after she had traveled several minutes in that direction, she realized that she must have been mistaken and had slammed on the brakes to pull a hard U-turn that would rival that of any maneuver in a Jason Statham movie. It was only when she'd finally caught sight of them in the distance that she had started breathing again.

At the time, she hadn't cared when the laptop slid off the seat to land heavily on the floor below, but now her cell phone suddenly started ringing from somewhere in the vicinity of her heel, and she realized that it had suffered a similar fate. She let out a growl of frustration, doing her best to simultaneously steer and blindly grope around the floor at her feet while traveling at speeds that cars used to be unable to withstand. Finally, she retrieved it, clumsily flipping it open and tucking it between her shoulder and her ear.

"Bailey," she snapped, beads of sweat dotting her brow.

" _Kat,_ _it_ _'_ _s_ _Fin._ _Wh_ _e_ _re_ _the_ _hell_ _are_ _you?"_

"Still traveling southbound on 87. Uh…I see…I see a sign for…Tillson? Jesus, you know, if you all had just listened to Stabler in the first place, we wouldn't-"

" _I_ _know,_ _I_ _know._ _Sa_ _v_ _e_ _it._ _You_ _sa_ _i_ _d_ _Tillson?_ _"_

"Yeah, Tillson."

" _You'_ _ve_ _got_ _to_ _be_ _shittin'_ _me._ _"_

"What?"

" _We_ _think_ _he'_ _s_ _taking_ _him_ _back_ _to_ _the_ _warehouse._ _It'_ _s_ _not_ _too_ _much_ _further_ _–_ _right_ _outside_ _of_ _Newburgh."_

"Back to the club?" she asked incredulously.

" _Yeah._ _Kat,_ _listen._ _Wh_ _e_ _n_ _you_ _get_ _there,_ _stay_ _put._ _Wait_ _for_ _backup._ _Don_ _'_ _t_ _try_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _hero._ _"_

"And just how long am I supposed to sit on my ass while Benson and Stabler are trapped inside with that psychotic piece of sh-"

" _Kat,_ listen _to_ _me,_ _"_ Fin urged. _"_ _I_ _'_ _ve_ _been_ _in_ _there._ _There_ _are_ _too_ _many_ _hidden_ _points_ _of_ _entry:_ _side_ _rooms,_ _back_ _rooms,_ _corridors,_ _you_ _name_ _it._ _S_ _t_ _ay_ _out_ _of_ _sight,_ _be_ _our_ _eyes_ _and_ _report_ _back."_

Kat let out a sigh of frustration. Standing aside and twiddling her thumbs was not something she did well under the best of circumstances.

" _Kat,_ _"_ he continued, his voice softening. _"You_ _know_ _me._ _I_ _'_ _m_ _the_ _first_ _person_ _to_ _put_ _my_ _ass_ _on_ _the_ _line_ _if_ _I_ _think_ _I_ _have_ _a_ _shot_ _in_ _hell._ _Trust_ _me_ _on_ _this_ _one._ _You_ _can'_ _t_ _help_ _them_ _if_ _you'_ _re_ _dead._ _"_

She exhaled heavily, lines of worry etched in her features. When she spoke again her words were strong, but her tone resigned. "Then you'd better get your ass up here. I can't help them if _they'_ _re_ dead either."

* * *

Elliot had still been lost in thought when the car slowed, exiting the thruway. The change of speed immediately put him on high alert, and as Kane navigated the series of roads that would lead them to the warehouse, the prospect of finding Olivia – no matter what the conditions – only intensified the rush of adrenaline thrumming through his veins. He had thought he had prepared himself for what it would be like to return to the club, but as the structure gradually came into view, he knew that nothing could have prepared him for the visceral reaction that crashed over him – hatred and revulsion and pain and regret surged within him, obliterating any pretense of emotional detachment from the past. He would never be able to lessen the impact of all that they had undergone inside of those walls.

Kane slowed to a stop, turning off the engine and moving around the vehicle to open the rear passenger-side door.

"Get out," Kane barked, his gun trained on Elliot's temple.

Elliot clenched his jaw, his gaze piercing into that of his captor. Wrath was radiating off of him in waves, but he did as he was instructed, slowly extricating himself from the vehicle and not once severing his gaze from the cold, gray eyes before him. Kane's expression told him all that he needed to know: neither he nor Olivia were expected to leave this place alive.

"Move," Kane commanded with a sharp incline of his head.

Elliot began to walk toward the warehouse, the sounds of his feet hitting the cement echoing bleakly in the covered garage. He felt numb, mechanically marching toward his execution with no concern for his fate; all that he saw was Olivia. A flood of images assailed him, visions of her beaten and broken body flashing before his eyes as his mind conjured up a plethora of worst-case scenarios. Everything that he had encountered throughout his years on the force, his years in the marines – every horror that he had come across came back to haunt him, yet this time it wasn't a sea of strangers in his midst, it was only Olivia.

Kane brought him back to the present with a sharp jab in between his shoulder blades. "Keep your fuckin' hands where I can see them," he snarled.

Elliot raised his palms, his blood pressure rising as he resisted the urge to whirl around and take Kane by surprise. _"_ _Not_ _yet,_ _"_ he told himself. _"_ _Not_ _until_ _you_ _get_ _through_ _that_ _door._ _"_

He continued to move forward, staring ahead of him toward the end of the darkened hallway where he knew he would find the heavy, steel door that would lead them across the threshold into the interior of the club. He remembered the feel of Olivia's waist beneath his arm the first time that they had traversed this corridor on the night that was to change everything. He remembered the rhythm of her breathing, silently betraying her tightly controlled attempts at masking her unease…the gentle fragrance of her hair that had become forever associated with her comforting presence at his side. It had become so ingrained as part of his daily existence that he never felt truly settled when the lingering scent dissipated in the air.

That night it had served as a painful reminder of all that he was standing to lose if he failed to protect her. He swallowed at the memories of all that she had endured and the way his heart had stopped when he had discovered her huddled in the shower beneath the ice-cold spray. When he'd held her that night, the fragrance in her damp hair was stronger than ever before, and it was this, more than anything else, that had finally calmed him enough to allow sleep to claim him.

As they neared the doorway, the shadowy figure of a guard slowly came into view. Elliot wondered how many men had escaped the raid and, more importantly, of those men, how many he might find inside of the building.

The guard nodded at Kane as they approached, spinning the handle to unlock the door. He pulled it open, the metallic whine resonating sharply in the otherwise silent hallway.

They stepped inside and were immediately cloaked in darkness, a stark contrast to the last time Elliot had entered the club. The only sources of light came from the dim recessed bulbs in the ceiling, filtering down in thin rays made visible by the plumes of cigarette smoke swirling in the air. As they walked past the bar, Elliot noted that the once opulent mirrored shelving system had shattered, and the few shelves that had not been destroyed by gunfire held broken bottles with jagged necks that only drew more attention to the feeling of foreboding in the atmosphere. Most of the mottled glass partitions had been destroyed, tables had been left overturned, and he could still see traces of the outlines of the bodies that had once littered the floor.

Elliot continued to scan his surroundings, counting six…seven…eight men that were immediately visible within the main room, and from what he could see, it appeared that they were all armed.

His heart sank. He might have had a slim chance at being able to hold his own against four, maybe five at most, but these eight men were undoubtedly just the tip of the iceberg. What's more, there was no sign of Olivia. The urge to tear the place apart until he found her was overwhelming.

"Don't get any bright ideas," Kane said, pressing the barrel of the gun against the base of his skull. "This only ends one way."

"Then get the fuck on with it and take me to her," Elliot growled.

Kane chuckled. "What makes you so sure she's even here?"

"Because if she weren't," Elliot gritted, "Petrov wouldn't have any use for me, you piece of shit."

The words made him physically ill – as if by voicing them he finally realized just how true they were. What's more, the terrifying reality was that Petrov had nothing left to lose, in which case they might not have much time.

"Have it your way. He'll be here soon enough."

Kane shoved Elliot down a narrow hallway to the rear of the club, and Elliot realized that one of his worst fears had been confirmed. Olivia hadn't just been held inside of the club, she'd been trapped inside of _this_ room.

Kane slid open the deadbolt, yanking open the door just far enough to shove Elliot inside before slamming it shut behind him. Elliot heard him slide the deadbolt back into place but he was beyond caring.

"Liv?" he called.

There was no response.

His heart was thudding so loudly in his ears that he wondered if he'd even be able to hear her reply.

"Liv?" he repeated, his voice cracking from desperation. "Please tell me you're okay."

He tried to regain his bearings in the darkness, taking a few steps in the direction in which he thought he'd caught sight of Olivia's huddled form. He approached slowly, as much from the darkness that enveloped him as from his fear that any sudden movements or sounds on his part would only serve to traumatize her further. He bent down slightly, feeling the air until he found the mattress. He followed it to its end, trying to judge the distance left between him and the far corner of the room. He lowered himself to the ground, closing the rest of the gap on his knees, his arms reaching out for her.

After what felt like an eternity, his fingers finally brushed against her leg.

She immediately jerked away from him, retreating even further into the corner.

His chest constricted and he stopped his forward motion. "Olivia it's me," he said softly.

He slowly lowered his hand, his fingers curling around her shin.

Being unable to retreat any further, she reacted in the only way she could: she fought him. She mustered what little strength she had left, lashing out with her fists and catching him a couple of times on the chest before he reacted and deflected her blows. She continued her efforts, but was no use; he caught both of her wrists in his firm grasp, preventing her attack and trapping her hands between their bodies.

She cried out in pain at the pressure he was inflicting on her fresh wounds.

He immediately loosened his grip, not sure as to what he had done to harm her, but no doubt in his mind that her startled yelp had been one of pain and not fear.

She tried to pull her hands from his grasp but he shifted, pulling her toward him in a crushing embrace, trapping her arms between them as she continued to cry and struggle against him.

"Shh, Liv. It's me… It's Elliot," he soothed.

He rocked her slightly as she continued to sob, her attempts at escape gradually abating until she went limp in his arms, her chest shaking against his.

He shifted one hand to cradle the back of her head, turning into her as he spoke into her temple. "It's me Liv. I'm not going to hurt you." He exhaled shakily. "I promise you. I'd rather die than hurt you again."

She was trembling and he continued his attempts to calm her, running his fingers through her hair, remembering the night that he had lulled her into slumber with the same gentle, repetitive motion. Minutes passed and still she said nothing, but it was enough to be able to hold her – to feel the reassuring rise and fall of her chest and know that for better or worse, he had been granted this much.

Finally, he felt a subtle change in her breathing.

"Elliot?" she asked brokenly.

"Yeah," he exhaled in relief. "I'm right here."

She choked back a sob, leaning into his touch and flattening her palms against the planes of his chest. "I'm s-sorry," she managed.

"Why?"

She curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt, trying to stop her chest from jerking. "At first I thought you were h-him…and then when I realized…I thought…I thought that you weren't real," she admitted. She had repeatedly clung to the images of him finding her so many times that his actual physical presence had seemed too good to be true – a figment of her desperate imagination.

"I'm here," he replied, trying to pull her even more closely toward him. "Whatever happens, it'll be you and me together, okay?"

She nodded against him, silent tears continuing to fall. He _s_ _houldn'_ _t_ be there with her. He should be safely at home. He should be as far away from this nightmare as possible – for his sake and his family's. Instead, he had willingly placed himself in harm's way, and he had done it all for her.

She felt so, unbelievably, selfish for wanting him there beside her.

"Shh," he soothed as he felt the jerking motion of her chest intensify at the thought.

She knew that they were already on borrowed time. Whatever Petrov had in store for them would undoubtedly make itself clear in a heartbeat. Whatever it was, whatever his plans, it would be _her_ fault for disobeying orders – _her_ fault for bringing Elliot down with her.

"Shh…hey." He kissed her temple, her forehead, skimming his lips over her brow, nuzzling his nose against hers and tilting her chin up as he gently pressed his lips to hers. He pulled back, trying to envision her expression and wishing that he knew which thoughts were responsible for the wave of sadness coursing through her.

She eventually managed to breathe long enough to speak, her voice small and full of pain. "I'm so sorry…so sorry." She shook her head against his.

"For what?" Her voice contained so much pain; it was tearing him apart.

"You shouldn't be here. It's all my fault."

She attempted to pull away, but he enfolded her into an even stronger embrace.

"No. _Nothing_ is your fault. You hear me?"

"If I hadn't been so selfish…"

"For what? For trying to help Anya? I would have done the same thing."

Her shoulders shook, but she said nothing.

He cradled the back of her head in his palm, turning into her ear. "All of those years of partnership…" he smiled in recollection of some of their battles of wills. "God help the person that tries to stand in our way."

She breathed a laugh through her tears.

"You've always put the vics first, Liv. That's not selfish; that's your heart taking over."

She closed her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath and trying to find the control that still remained elusive. "Your family, El… You shouldn't have come here," she cried. "I could never live with myself if-"

His arms tightened around her, his voice loving but firm. "No. Don't you dare do that. _You'_ _re_ my family too, Liv."

She shook her head.

"You _ar_ _e_. We haven't…" He exhaled shakily, running his thumb back and forth along the nape of her neck as he held her. "We haven't had a lot of time…for me to tell you…for me to show you…" He trailed off, overcome with emotion at the thought that the hourglass was almost empty. "I need…I need you to know."

She clutched onto him even more tightly, nodding against him.

"If we get out of this…"

His voice failed him, no longer able to carry past the tightness in his throat. If they got out of this, he would do everything in his power to make sure that her doubts were silenced once and for all. He prayed that God would give them this chance…that Kat would find a way to bring backup in time. He couldn't protect her here.

"Liv, I…I'd be lost without you," he rasped, struggling to regain his composure and cursing himself for his weakness. If nothing else, he needed to remain strong for her. It was the one thing he should have been able to manage; yet now, faced with the prospect of losing her…of letting her down…he had no strength left to offer her. His soul was already grieving.

He couldn't protect her.

He was failing her. Again.

Olivia pulled back slightly, gently framing his face in her hands, wishing more than anything that she could see his eyes. He hadn't uttered a sound, but she knew him better than she knew herself and instinctively leaned forward, brushing her lips over the moisture on his cheek that she'd known he had hoped to conceal. She repeated her actions on the other side before tenderly pressing her lips to his.

His breathing became ragged as he fought to collect himself, and when her lips lifted from his own he pulled her toward him, wrapping her up in his arms with an unparalleled intensity – as if the protectiveness of the gesture alone would be sufficient to insulate her from further harm. They clung to each other, painfully aware of the fact that it could be their last opportunity to seek comfort in one another's arms. The recognition that they had finally found each other only to have this stolen from them was more painful than either could bear.

Neither of them knew how long they had remained like this, when Olivia's small voice broke the silence.

"Elliot?"

He heard the hesitancy in her tone – as if she hadn't quite made up her mind to speak, and although he felt the light puffs of air she was expelling meet his neck, she had stilled so completely that he could barely detect the rise and fall of her chest against his.

"Yeah?" he rasped, tucking his chin more securely over her shoulder.

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, the words she so desperately longed to speak lodging in her throat.

Now he stilled, his heart hammering in his chest.

"I…I just wanted…" her voice broke.

It felt as if she were saying goodbye.

"If something happens…I-"

She did not have the chance to finish, as the deadbolt slid open and Kane barged in, Petrov close at his heels. Elliot and Olivia scrambled to their feet, blinking against the brightness that now flooded the room.

"How touching," Petrov spat derisively as one side of Kane's mouth turned up into a cold sneer.

Olivia swayed, the room spinning around her from the drugs that had yet to leave her system. Her vision clouded and her blood pumped noisily in her ears, and it was all that she could do to prevent her knees from buckling beneath her. Elliot had protectively positioned himself between her and their captors, which thankfully meant that he had not yet noticed her condition. She vowed to do everything in her power to conceal this from him; it would only succeed in ratcheting up his alarm tenfold. She allowed herself to lean forward slightly to steady herself against his rigid back. The gold and black speckles that swirled before her gradually receded, allowing the men to come into view.

"A far cry from the last time we met," Petrov continued. He trailed his fingertips along the mattress, pausing and turning to regard Elliot with a malevolent expression. "Quite the show you put on."

Elliot's jaw clenched and Olivia's fingers reflexively bit into the muscles of his back.

"Yes…" he mused, holding out the word in a way that was chillingly reminiscent of Nikolai. "Quite impressive." He raised the hand that held his gun, casually scratching his chin with the pad of his thumb. "Tell me," he said, his features shifting into the equivalent of an indifferent shrug, "What did it feel like?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Elliot snapped.

Petrov smirked, his eyes narrowing into slits. "What did it feel like to fuck her while she screamed?"

Elliot lurched forward but Olivia quickly locked her arms around him, trying to rein him in for as long as she was able.

"The smell of fear…of sex…it's intoxicating, isn't it?" His gaze shifted to Olivia as he spoke, unbridled lust in his expression. "The power…to feel her struggle beneath you…the knowledge that you could do anything you wanted – anything in the world – and she could do nothing to stop you."

Olivia averted her gaze, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

Petrov chuckled, returning his attention to Elliot once more. "Did you tell her? Does she know?"

Olivia felt a rumble in Elliot's chest that reverberated all the way through her, his muscles so rigid that it was as if she were restraining a man made of stone.

"You see," he said, addressing Olivia although his eyes remained locked on Elliot, "Your partner here stumbled across my…entertainment center. And oh yes, you were _very_ captivating subjects indeed. Very convincing… I can see why you were able to deceive him."

 _Him._

The word hung in the air like an explosive that had yet to detonate – the key that would unlock the full force of Petrov's as-of-yet tightly controlled rage.

"But _I_ know," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerously low volume as he slowly resumed his approach. "I watched you again and again and _aga_ _i_ _n_ …" He stopped just beyond an arm's length away. "I saw everything I needed to see. And beyond the fear, the blood, and the tears, do you know what I saw?"

He paused, and it was clear to Olivia that as tenuous as Elliot's grip was on his emotions, Petrov's control was slipping away ever more rapidly. His breathing had quickened, his nostrils were flaring, and the vein on his forehead was now standing out against reddened skin.

" _Love_ ," Petrov said acerbically, as if the very word brought about a foul taste in his mouth. He exhaled sharply, thinly veiling his contempt under a dim attempt at laughter. Then just as quickly as the rage had appeared, he swallowed, and a menacing smile slowly spread across his features. "And then I knew just how easy it would be."

"How easy _what_ would be you sick fuck?" Elliot gritted.

"Elliot," Olivia cautioned under her breath.

"Just how easy it would be to get my brother's betrayer back inside these walls," Petrov finished, gesturing somewhat indifferently to their surroundings with a casual flick of his wrist.

Betrayer.

Singular.

Petrov held Elliot's gaze icily, watching as the recognition flitted across his features.

 _Elliot_ had been the man that Nikolai had trusted enough to make the decision to lead them to Lara. _Elliot_ had been the one to pose as his accomplice only to have proved to be Nikolai's downfall. Petrov had quickly realized that by targeting Olivia and engineering her capture, Elliot would inevitably follow.

"So now we're going to play a little game."

A chill ran down Olivia's spine.

"We're going to see just how far you'll go to protect her…to protect each other."

Elliot felt Olivia trembling against him. It was too much. It was as if Nikolai had been resurrected and was once again standing before them, reopening all too fresh wounds. Anything – even death – would be a more preferable fate than the torture that awaited them. The video footage from that night had been seared into his brain, replaying as relentlessly as the memories that would forever haunt him. The fact that they were once again standing in that godforsaken room only intensified everything to an unbearable degree.

"Why don't we start with a little reenactment?" Petrov continued.

Olivia's breathing was rapid, her shallow exhales meeting the back of his neck.

Never again.

He would never put Olivia through that a second time.

"There won't be any more games," Elliot said firmly. "We're not playing."

Petrov's eyes darkened, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Oh…you'll play."

"You're going to kill us anyway, so you might as well get on with it," Elliot snapped.

"Elliot," Olivia cautioned just loudly enough for him to hear.

"You'll play, or _we'_ _ll_ play," Petrov threatened.

Kane moved further into the room on the opposite side of the mattress, closing in on Olivia with every heavy, deliberate step.

Elliot immediately pivoted them so that Olivia was further protected by the corner of the room, shifting his gaze between the two men.

Petrov motioned for Kane to stop his approach and he did so, though his focus remained trained on Olivia, his expression predatory.

"My patience is waning, detective," Petrov snarled, adjusting the grip on his weapon as his thumb toyed with the hammer.

"Just do it, Elliot," Olivia's shaky voice met his ears. "Whatever they want you to do, just do it."

"No," he said unequivocally.

"Dammit El, just do it!" she pleaded.

"Ah, see?" Petrov smirked. "Your girlfriend is catching on."

Elliot turned his head slightly over one shoulder, addressing Olivia though the response was intended for both of them. "No," he repeated, his voice rough though his tone was gentle.

Kane took another step toward her.

"Elliot, please!" she begged, panic taking over as she clutched onto him. "I don't care – whatever it is, I don't care! I don't care, I don't c-care…" Tears streamed down her cheeks as Kane seemed to move closer even though he remained motionless, her mind conjuring up images from her nightmares and creating some sort of amalgamation of fiction and reality, past and present, the terror coursing through her system so powerfully that she was unable to think, only to feel.

Elliot reached his left arm behind him to find her, his hand coming to rest on her hip.

"Backup is on its way, Petrov. Now is your chance to run while you still can," Elliot said with deceptive calm.

Kane snorted. "Yeah, he tried that in the car on the way down."

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "They're even closer now."

"Maybe," Petrov said flatly, "but my men can hold them off."

"Pretty big gamble." Elliot shrugged.

"Not as big as the one you're taking," Petrov snapped, his control slipping.

Elliot cocked his head, blatantly sizing up the man in front of him from head to toe. "Looks like I'm getting under your skin," he remarked brazenly, as if Petrov posed no danger to either of them.

"Elliot!" Olivia tried to stop him. She knew what he was doing – playing on Petrov's impulsivity to try to get Petrov to turn on him and take the focus off of her, but God she just wanted him to stop. Even if he had to beat her, hurt her, it would at least buy them some precious time for their backup to arrive…and then a wave of nausea swept over her as she realized that he must be doing this because he didn't think that backup was anywhere near…if it was coming at all.

He had come alone.

This was it, the end of the road, and while she knew she should be trying to come up with something – anything – to do or say as a last ditch effort to undo the damage he was creating, the only thing she could do was cling to him even more tightly as she sobbed.

She needed him more than air and he was going to be taken from her.

Petrov attempted a taut smile. "You've got quite the pair on you, don't you?" he seethed.

Elliot smirked, steeling himself for the aftermath of his next statement. "Funny you should mention that. I mean, Nikolai had his dick bitten off. What's your excuse?"

Petrov growled, rushing toward Elliot who quickly shoved Olivia toward the corner, deflecting the blow Petrov had hoped to inflict upon him with the butt of his gun. Elliot grabbed his wrist, slamming his head forward against the bridge of Petrov's nose as he simultaneously twisted his arm up and around in attempts to disarm him.

Olivia tried to right herself, intending to try and get to Kane in the hopes that it would distract him enough to give Elliot the upper hand, but no sooner had she been able to push herself off of the wall than Kane's iron fist closed around her hair, jerking her head back as he decisively aimed for Elliot in the scuffle and fired.

"No!" Olivia screamed as Elliot faltered, losing his grip on Petrov's wrist as his left hand flew up to clutch his upper arm, blood immediately seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

The momentary reflexive action was all that Petrov needed. He grabbed Elliot's neck, jerking him forward as he slammed his knee into his abdomen, and when Elliot doubled over he took the opportunity to smash the gun down onto the back of his skull, causing him to collapse the rest of the way to the ground.

"Elliot!" Olivia struggled against Kane's hold, but he reinforced his grip by using his right arm to ensnare her around the throat, keeping her in the headlock as she watched Elliot try to push himself up off the ground with his good arm, only to collapse again as Petrov delivered blow after blow to his head and torso.

Olivia sobbed, calling out to Elliot over and over again and begging Petrov to stop.

Elliot had stopped moving long before Petrov finally ceased his attack, delivering one last kick to Elliot's side before he straightened, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his sleeve.

"Leave her!" he barked at Kane who promptly shoved her to the ground.

She began to scramble toward Elliot, but Petrov gave another order, unintelligible to her in her panicked state of mind, and then Kane was roughly dragging Elliot's limp body away from her.

"No!" she cried, trying to move more quickly, but before she could traverse the gap, Kane had already hauled him out of the room.

Petrov followed closely behind them, and just as Olivia reached the threshold he slammed the door, replacing the deadbolt and once again trapping her inside.

She pounded her fists against the door, sobbing uncontrollably as she continued to call out his name.

* * *

She was hyperventilating. Every breath was an uncoordinated gasp, and although her fists still rested against the cold metal of the door, she was unable to feel them. Her chest was jerking uncontrollably, her sobs further obstructing her attempts at taking in air. She slid down the door, turning to rest her back against it as she stared at the bloodstain on the floor. The sight brought about a wave of nausea and she suddenly doubled over, dry heaving as she had nothing in her stomach to empty.

He had to be okay. He had to.

She shakily crawled toward the spot where he had lain, extending trembling fingers to touch the blood that had yet to dry upon the concrete. She curled into the fetal position, staring at the traces of crimson on her fingertips as the tears flowed freely from her eyes.

"I can't do this without you," she whispered brokenly.

Memories of all of their years together flooded her mind – a jumble of images and emotions that suddenly stilled on the remembrance of the night in her apartment following the undercover op when she had first sought refuge in the safety of his embrace. It was the night that she had later realized had marked the first time since childhood that the persistent hollow feeling in her chest had abated. She'd felt warm, safe, loved.

Complete.

His presence, his tender care of her physical and emotional wounds had been enough to help her withstand even the most unbearable aspects of her trauma, and a night in which she'd felt terrified beyond belief had transformed into one in which she'd never felt more protected.

Yet now she had never felt more alone. The void threatened to swallow her whole, the despair so pervasive that it hurt just to breathe.

As the minutes stretched on, her tears gradually stopped falling, her eyes staring off into the distance but no longer seeing anything.

* * *

"Shots fired!" Kat reported in a panic, her heart thudding in her chest. "I repeat, shots fired!"

Where the fuck was her backup?

She unholstered her weapon, leaning across the seat to rifle through the glove box where she found more ammunition.

"I'm going in."

" _Negative._ _Ho_ _l_ _d_ _your_ _position._ _"_

"I'm going in!"

" _Hold_ _your_ _position,_ _"_ the obnoxiously calm voice repeated _._ _"_ _Wait_ _for_ _backup."_

She slammed her fist against the dashboard, her chest heaving as she stared at the structure in the distance.

"It's been too long," she snapped in frustration, thinking aloud more than expecting a reply.

" _Bailey,_ _that'_ _s_ _an_ _order,_ _"_ Cragen's firm voice took over. _"You_ _go_ _in_ _now_ _and_ _we_ _lose_ _any_ _chance_ _of_ _getting_ _them_ _out_ _alive._ _"_

She clenched her jaw, unwilling to hear the voice of reason. "How long?" she gritted.

* * *

Olivia had lost all concept of time when the door was flung open and Kane stormed in.

"Get up," he commanded.

She remained motionless, still staring blankly before her.

"I said get the fuck up," he repeated, kicking her sharply in the ribs.

She gasped, curling further into herself but making no move to comply with his demands.

"Fuckin' bitch," he growled, bending over her and roughly grabbing her upper arms. He hauled her up off the ground, pivoting and slamming her down onto the mattress, pinning her wrists on either side of her head. "Someone should teach you some fucking manners," he snarled.

Suddenly the fire was back in her eyes.

"You first," she hissed, lifting her head and spitting in his face.

"Cunt," he cursed, swiping at the moisture on his cheek before swiftly backhanding her across the face.

Her head jerked to the side, her body tensing in anticipation of further blows, but then Petrov's voice called out sharply from the doorway.

"Enough! You'll have at her soon enough."

Kane muttered a terse reply, yanking her to her feet and escorting her roughly out of the room. He shoved her down an unfamiliar hallway and she stumbled forward until he stopped in front of one of several doors along the right side of the hall. He undid the latch, thrusting her inside so forcefully that she fell to her knees. He shut the door behind them, positioning himself in front of it with a dangerously satisfied expression on his face.

Her brow furrowed and she scrambled to her feet, backing away from him as she tried to discern the reason for his shift in demeanor. She was unable to put more than five feet of distance between them before she was stopped abruptly as her back hit the wall.

When she turned around, she felt as though all of the air had been sucked from her lungs.

It was made of glass.

She was facing out into the center of the club from within one of Nikolai's glass cages.

She caught sight of a number of armed men along the periphery, and in the center, Elliot's slumped form had been gagged and restrained, tethered to a chair not more than ten feet away. While the sight of him still breathing brought about a small wave of relief, it was immediately undone by the realization of what Petrov had in store for them.

Her breath hitched as Petrov caught her eye from beyond the glass, one side of his mouth curling up into a cold sneer. She looked nervously from him to Elliot, taking in the blood-drenched sleeve of his shirt and his pallid complexion.

Petrov paced in front of him for a few moments before ultimately losing his patience and slapping him across the face to wake him up again.

Elliot shook his head, trying to regain his bearings, and when he caught sight of Olivia beyond the glass, his face drained of even more color. Their eyes locked, silently communicating pain and longing and love.

"Now," Petrov began almost cheerfully, "This is where things start to become interesting."

Behind Olivia, Kane started his slow approach. She remained motionless, holding Elliot's gaze as if it were her anchor.

"You see," Petrov continued, "My brother was very meticulous about his research – always looking into the backgrounds of his chosen few…and believe me when I tell you that he knew every last detail about 'Carl Edwards'. What he did _no_ _t_ anticipate was just how far you had gone in your efforts to deceive him. As I said, your performance was very convincing. So convincing, in fact, that I would say it was a little _too_ convincing." He paused, looking conspiratorially between Elliot and Olivia. "You see, I think you'd wanted a taste of her so badly that you would have jumped at any opportunity to claim her as your own."

Elliot jerked against his restraints, glaring at Petrov before quickly returning his gaze to Olivia.

"Not that I blame you, of course." Petrov smirked, exchanging a glance with Kane who closed the remaining distance between him and Olivia, trapping her between his body and the glass.

She visibly shuddered, her eyes drifting closed to center herself before reopening them to find Elliot's once more. Her breathing had quickened, but she might as well have been a statue as stoic as she appeared.

"Yes, she _is_ captivating, no?" Petrov's eyes narrowed. "Tell me, how many times did you fantasize about ripping off her clothes before we finally gave you that opportunity?"

Elliot felt ill. He looked away, shaking his head and furrowing his brow before meeting Olivia's gaze once more.

Olivia shot him a questioning look when she saw the pain and guilt in his expression. Unable to hear Petrov's words, she could only assume that his powers of manipulation rivaled those of Nikolai's.

Petrov smiled at the effect his words were having on him. "Yes, I thought so… How many nights did you come inside of your wife, all the while imagining that it was Olivia beneath you? …And then you were suddenly granted that permission. _Nikolai_ granted you that permission," he said, his voice suddenly turning colder. "And you took what he offered you. You held her down and claimed her body with your own."

He leaned forward, encroaching on Elliot's space, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

"And I know what you haven't dared admit to anyone: You _still_ think about the way her body felt around you…the feel of her skin…the way it felt to know that _you_ had the power to make her want you, even in that room... It calls out to you like a drug, and if given the chance, you would do it all…over…again."

Elliot grunted in protest, fire in his eyes and his nostrils flaring from the rage he was unable to release.

"Nikolai granted you the permission to take her," he repeated, his voice sharper. "And how did you repay him?"

Petrov paused, his chest heaving from the fury that had been steadily building within him, and when he continued, he yelled so loudly that it made Olivia flinch even from within the confines of her cell.

"You betrayed him!" he bellowed, his face inches from Elliot's. "You destroyed everything!"

He straightened, turning as if to walk away, but then he whirled around and delivered another blow to the side of Elliot's head. He fumed silently for another few moments before he actually did walk away, gesturing to one of the men that stood in the shadows who then approached to hand him an envelope.

Petrov cleared his throat, returning to stand beside Elliot, and when he spoke, his demeanor and tone were once again eerily calm.

"Well, let me be the first to inform you that I, too, am _very_ meticulous about my research. In fact, I uncovered some very interesting pieces of information that I believe you'll want to see."

He turned his head over his shoulder, exchanging a long look with Kane who nodded and snaked his left arm around Olivia's waist before withdrawing his weapon, cocking it and pressing it against the underside of her throat.

She tensed, fear in her eyes as she held Elliot's gaze. He pulled relentlessly against his restraints, willing to break every bone in his body if it meant that Olivia would escape unscathed.

Petrov opened the envelope, slowly walking in front of Elliot and dropping five photographs on the floor before him: Maureen, Kathleen, the twins, Eli.

Elliot looked from the photographs to Petrov to Olivia in a panic, and saw that Olivia's eyes had welled with tears as Kane spoke into her ear. Kane studied Elliot's reaction as he did so, a wicked smile on his face as Olivia's breathing began to race out of control.

Petrov leaned over him once more, his eyes flashing intently in twisted enjoyment of Elliot's distress. "Detective, you _stole_ something from me. My brother took his own life because of _you_. He was my blood…my family," he seethed, "and now _you_ are going to feel what _I_ felt – what I _feel_. You see," he gestured to Olivia, "Right now he's telling her that your life – the lives of your children – are in her hands. He's telling her that it depends on what she's willing to _do_ for you. But really? When he's done with her, your brains will _still_ be all over the floor, and whether or not your children survive will depend on her continued obedience."

Elliot resumed his efforts to break free of his restraints, growling in frustration when they still didn't yield.

"You see? She'll be my slave… She'll be broken…and it will all be because of _you_."

Petrov motioned for one of his men to approach, and before he saw it himself, Elliot knew from Olivia's panicked expression that things had somehow taken an even more colossal turn for the worse. He turned his head in search of the source of Olivia's distress, and saw that the man had handed Petrov a revolver.

Petrov walked over to stand before Olivia, emptying the cylinder in front of her before holding up a single bullet.

"I trust that you're familiar with the game of Russian roulette, no?"

He replaced the bullet in the cylinder, giving it a spin before clicking it into place.

"I've found that a bit of added incentive is _quite_ the motivating force."

With that he swiftly aimed the gun at Elliot's head and pulled the trigger.

Elliot flinched and made a reflexive sound of protest, his heart in his throat as he realized that Petrov no longer had any use for him. Regardless of whether or not he survived the game, Petrov had achieved what he'd set out to accomplish: Elliot was in unbearable agony and Olivia would remain in his clutches as a perpetual target for his revenge.

Elliot looked up at Olivia, her anguished scream made silent by the soundproof barrier between them, but her expression spoke volumes. Her knees had buckled, Kane's grip around her waist the only thing keeping her upright.

Petrov paused to study her reaction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he walked away from the glass to stand beside Elliot, once again spinning the cylinder and this time pressing the barrel firmly against Elliot's temple. He pulled back the hammer, keeping his eyes on Olivia as she became increasingly hysterical, bucking and arching as she tried to dislodge Kane's hold.

Never – not even when Nikolai had put them through hell and back again – had Elliot ever seen Olivia so panic-stricken.

She pounded her fists against the glass, screaming and pleading with Petrov to stop.

Petrov pulled the trigger and Elliot flinched for the second time, watching as Kane released his grip around Olivia's waist and she immediately collapsed to the ground in despair. She thumped her fists weakly against the glass, her shoulders jerking as she sobbed. Kane lowered himself to crouch behind her, a sinister gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward so that his lips hovered above her ear, staring at Elliot as he spoke to her.

Elliot observed the exchange as if he were watching a train wreck in slow motion: her silent sobs…the movement of her hair as her shoulders slumped forward, her forehead coming to rest upon the glass…the way in which she gradually stilled but for the aftershocks of tremors that wracked her body.

She was crumbling before his eyes, her body language broken. Defeated.

Elliot's face contorted in agony as Kane straightened and his hands began their subtle violation of her – his left hand sliding down the side of her neck and over her collarbone as his right traced her shoulder with the barrel of his gun.

Elliot felt as though he were drowning. He was bound, useless, and utterly terrified as he watched as Olivia did nothing to protest Kane's advances. Her head remained bowed forward, her fists loose where they rested against the glass.

" _Look_ _at_ _me,_ _Liv,_ _"_ he thought in desperation. _"_ _Look_ _at_ _me,_ _look_ _at_ _me,_ _look_ _at_ _me_ _…"_

Finally she did so, her head slowly lifting to find him once more. The anguish and fear in his eyes mirrored her own and she flattened her palms against the glass as if reaching for him. Her chin quivered and two tears spilled out over brimming lids to roll down her cheeks, but her expression softened into a heart-wrenching display of acceptance in her desire to calm him.

He saw the moment that she made up her mind – the resoluteness in her eyes.

He shook his head. _"_ _No,_ _Liv,_ _"_ he tried to scream at her through his gaze. _"_ _Don_ _'_ _t_ _even_ _think_ _about_ _it._ _"_

Her chest jerked with another sob as she tried to communicate the myriad feelings flowing within her by means of the intensity of her gaze, and as Kane's hand slid lower, Elliot's eyes welled with tears of his own as she caressed the glass with her thumb and mouthed, _"_ _I_ _love_ _you."_

Elliot made a strangled sound that was born of anger and grief, jerking against his restraints again and again as Kane grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to her feet, shoving her against the glass as he roughly ground himself against her.

Olivia continued to focus on Elliot, as if she were trying to imagine that it was him behind her, his hands that roamed her body, but it wasn't working. Kane was continuing to speak to her, and Elliot could only imagine the psychological torment he was inflicting upon her.

She flinched as Kane ripped open the button of her jeans, and as he forced his hand beneath the denim, she could no longer hold Elliot's gaze. It was too painful. She closed her eyes, grimacing at the violation, and when she reopened them, she instead looked over Elliot's shoulder toward the darkness beyond.

Elliot's frantic efforts to free himself were doing nothing to loosen his bonds, however, the way in which the chair was wobbling beneath him led him to believe that his actions might be having some effect after all. He continued to thrash and pull as hard as he could muster, ignoring the threat posed by the revolver that Petrov had cocked and aimed at his temple for the third time. Petrov did not appear at all concerned by Elliot's actions, and although his finger remained curled around the trigger, he was staring with rapt attention at Olivia beyond the glass, his breathing heavy with arousal.

Kane removed his hand to fumble with his belt, so confident in Olivia's total submission to his assault that he leaned forward on his right arm to brace himself, his gun pressed between his hand and the glass.

Olivia was visibly shaking, and it was the worst pain that Elliot had ever experienced – to know that her love for him extended so far that she would be willing to endure no end of suffering on his behalf. Another strangled sound erupted from somewhere deep within him, and he watched in horror as Kane began to yank her jeans down over her hips.

Then suddenly Elliot noticed a shift in Olivia's body language – a tension that he immediately recognized as having nothing to do with fear, but rather anticipation.

Her eyes flew to his, quickly darting to the left and back again in silent communication.

Elliot lurched himself to the side, toppling the chair over and crashing to the ground just as a pop and a hissing noise filled the air and the room began to fill with thick white smoke.

Petrov spun around as his men quickly drew their weapons, firing blindly into the fog.

Olivia took the opportunity to slam her head back against Kane, connecting with his chin and using the small window of space it afforded her to grab for the gun. She caught his wrist in both of her hands, slamming his hand against the glass in attempts to disarm him. The gun discharged, shooting a small hole through the glass as a web of jagged lines immediately appeared in the bullet's wake.

Olivia felt as though she were fighting through water – her responses too slow, her blows ineffectual. Her body was shaking from the strain – the adrenaline, the fatigue, the emotional turmoil all compounding at once and working against her.

Kane quickly overpowered her, forcing her to the ground as his weight crashed on top of her. The impact expelled the air from her lungs, and it was from sheer strength of will alone that she managed to maintain her grasp on Kane's wrist, continuing to struggle for possession of the gun.

Her left hand slid from his wrist to the base of the gun, and it discharged for the second time, shooting another hole through the top corner of the glass.

Kane growled, his expression pure rage as he glowered down at her.

She cried out from the strain, losing the battle as her elbows buckled and she was forced to rely upon her aching muscles alone.

Then, just as a malevolent glimmer of satisfaction flashed in his eyes, she quickly changed tactics, allowing her arms to fold as she quickly jerked them downward, twisting with all of her might.

She heard the snap of his wrist and Kane let out a startled cry, and as his hand collapsed inward she used the thumb of her left hand to pull the trigger.

His body jerked above her, his eyes wide and mouth agape as blood poured from the fatal wound she had inflicted.

Having used up every last ounce of strength she had left to defend herself from his attack, she could do nothing to rid herself of the dead weight that pinned her to the ground. She lay there, trapped, the blood of her assailant soaking her skin.

* * *

The smokescreen was completely obscuring the figures in the main room, obstructing any chance Elliot might have had at catching a glimpse of Olivia. His chair had broken from the fall, yet he remained tangled up with the fragments of wood, still unable to free himself from his restraints. Countless shots rang out above him, but it was impossible to tell whether they were originating more from Petrov and his men or from the backup that he had so desperately prayed would arrive.

He could see no more than a few feet in front of him, but as he continued to thrash and yank at his bonds, he suddenly caught sight of a flash of movement to his left.

Petrov stormed into view, his eyes wild and his revolver drawn as he headed straight for him.

Elliot frantically lashed out with his legs, trying to sweep Petrov's out from under him, but he stopped just out of reach, his arm fully extended and his knuckles white as he gripped the revolver so forcefully and with so much fury that it shook in his hand.

He trained the gun on Elliot's forehead, pulling the trigger multiple times in close succession, waiting for the fated round to reach the chamber, and although Petrov acted with ruthless speed, Elliot felt as though everything was transpiring in slow motion.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The gunshot rang out with explosive force, and Elliot's body jerked so violently in response that it took him several agonizing moments to realize that the shot had been fired from behind him.

His head snapped from Kat to Petrov, watching as Petrov dropped to his knees, his chest erupting into spasms as a trail of blood dribbled from his mouth and down his chin. Even moments from death, Petrov's rage continued to fuel him, his wrath palpable as he attempted to raise his gun once more.

Kat fired a second shot and Petrov collapsed into a crumpled heap, his legs twisted beneath him and the revolver still clutched in his hand.

* * *

Olivia was still trapped against the cement. Fin kicked down the door, his gun raised with both hands as he quickly scanned the interior. His eyes flew to Olivia in alarm, taking in her stricken expression as her eyes stared hauntingly at the ceiling above. He rushed to her, pulling Kane's body off of hers and dropping to his knees at her side.

She was still gripping Kane's gun and he eased it from her grasp, his throat tightening as he noted that she barely seemed aware of his presence. She was covered in blood and he quickly tried to determine whether she was injured as well, gently peeling back her sodden shirt as he examined her.

It was then that she reacted, her whole body tensing at the feel of his hands on her skin.

"Shh, I'm sorry. I gotta look, Liv. Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked gently, his eyes brimming with concern as she shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. "Okay, okay," he soothed, replacing the material.

He placed his palm on her cheek, coaxing her to turn toward him so that she finally met his gaze.

"Let's get you out of here, okay?"

She nodded, a single tear escaping from the outside corner of her eye.

"I got you," he breathed. "I got you."

He slipped an arm beneath her head, helping her to sit before wrapping his other around her, easing her up off the floor in a way that was tender but not infantilizing. He lifted her to her feet, allowing her the dignity of attempting to stand beside him, though they both knew he was supporting the bulk of her weight.

She leaned against him, her arm wrapping around his middle as her hand hooked onto his vest, a pained utterance escaping her lips as he wordlessly helped to draw her jeans further up her hips.

He slowly helped navigate her around Kane's body as they made their way toward the door, feeling her shudder against him as they stepped past his lifeless form.

"Don't look back, Liv," he murmured into her temple in the closest gesture they had ever shared.

* * *

Elliot's chest was heaving as Kat knelt behind him, finally succeeding in freeing him from his restraints.

She said nothing, a sheen of sweat standing out on her forehead as she moved before him, helping to remove his gag.

He pushed himself up to sit with his good arm and she looked to his gunshot wound with concern in her eyes.

He shook his head. "It's fine. I'm fine," he reassured her, his voice rough.

The gunfire had ceased, the only sounds being the voices of officers communicating with one another in the background.

Elliot's eyes anxiously searched for Olivia through the gradually dispersing smoke, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of her through the glass, Fin at her side.

He returned his gaze to Kat, who was regarding him affectionately, a trace of sadness in her eyes.

"Looks like I managed to save both of your hides," she quipped shakily.

A wave of apprehension flooded over him as he recognized that she was keeping something from him, and his hand flew to her shoulder as she grimaced and failed to suppress a light gasp. "Kat, what's wrong?" he asked in alarm. His eyes widened with understanding, cold dread in the pit of his stomach. "Where are you hit?"

He raked his eyes over her, trying to find the injury, and then she appeased him, lifting a trembling hand to the side of her abdomen, just beneath the edge of her vest. He immediately removed the protective gear, quickly examining the area and beyond alarmed by the amount of blood she was losing.

"I need a medic!" he yelled over to the nearest officer who nodded and scurried off while radioing for help.

Elliot moved behind her, easing her backwards to recline against him as he applied pressure on the wound.

Kat let out a strangled cry, her left hand flying up to clutch onto his arm.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

She took several shallow breaths, trying to withstand the pain. "You're a reckless son of a bitch, you know that?" she gasped, maintaining her bravado though he heard the fear in her tone.

"Takes one to know one," he replied, the emotion just as plainly evident in his own. "I'm so sorry, Kat," he rasped after a pause.

"Don't be," she replied. "Not your fault. Not now, not ever," she said as firmly as she could manage. "I'd do it all over again."

Her voice fell away abruptly as her body convulsed in a painful spasm, her nails digging into his arm as she did her best to stifle her cry.

"Dammit, I need that bus!" Elliot roared, causing several more officers to startle and nod and race toward the entrance.

"Elliot," she called, her voice small. "Please…" she hesitated. "Please tell Fin that I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"He'll know," she said weakly, her brow furrowing as the room started to fade.

"Okay," he assured her.

She tensed violently again in his arms, her eyes squeezing shut against the pain.

"Hold on Bailey," he commanded, his voice choked with emotion. "Don't you dare give up on me now."


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter Note:_

 _So, this story is obviously now updated beyond this chapter, but I am re-posting this author's note because it still explains where I disappeared to and my intention to finish this story..._

 _"OKAY. This is the last completed chapter of BP. **Here is the thing:** I have a very clear picture of how I'm going to wrap up the story. (I have for a very long time). I also have at least ten pages written of Chapter 20 (which has been collecting dust for years). Why did I abandon it? Well, initially, I had writer's block regarding how to progress El and Liv beyond a particular scene in the unfinished chapter. Then the site went down, everything disappeared (both SVUfiction and SVUfans) and I kind of took that as a sign that that chapter (no pun intended) of my life was over. Also, Meloni left the show...and that was the final nail in the coffin. Here is the other thing: **I WANT TO FINISH THIS FIC.** I don't know that anyone will read anything that I've put on this site, but I've been working on it anyway, because I want my BP-universe versions of Elliot and Olivia to have some closure..._

 _I don't know how long it will take me to do so, but I am really, really trying to nudge it along. If anyone is reading this, I'm so glad that you've gotten this far, and please know that I have every intention of completing this. I don't want to leave you, or the characters, or myself, hanging any longer than I already have. xo - Jessica"_

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen**

Fin slowly helped Olivia traverse the hallway down which Kane had so forcefully dragged her before. She was clutching onto him tightly, her limbs shaky, and when they reached a midpoint approximately twenty paces from where they had started, Fin paused, allowing her a few moments to rest. He said nothing, silently waiting for her to catch her breath, and it was only at her nod that he began to walk with her again.

They rounded the corner and this time it was Olivia who stopped them. She remained frozen on the spot, her breathing shallow and her gaze fixed on the open door a few feet before them on the left side of the hall.

Fin wrapped his arm more securely around her waist. "It's the only way out," he said quietly. After a few moments, she began to move forward once more, and although he felt her trembling against him, she proceeded to lead them straight toward the door. "Liv?" he asked warily, wanting nothing more than to take her as far away from this nightmare as possible.

She pulled away from him, moving to the threshold and bracing herself on the doorframe. She stared at the mattress, the walls, the bloodstain on the cement. She took in every last detail of the room that had forever changed them. She saw flashes of images from memories as if they were playing out before her eyes, and wondered how many other women had been terrorized and assaulted within the confines of those four walls - how many still woke up in the middle of the night shaking from fear, the sound of Nikolai's laughter echoing in their ears.

She ran her palm along the smooth metal of the door, shuddering at the recollection of the way in which the feel of it had immediately told her that she was once again trapped inside of the room that would forever haunt her. She pushed herself off of the doorframe, her focus suddenly shifting as she stared at the mechanism that had held the deadbolt fast. One small piece of metal. Her hand shook as she reached to touch it, rage suddenly taking the place of the fear that had gripped her for so long. The men responsible for these atrocities were dead. There was no one left - no surviving target for her anger but for the deadbolt and the small piece of metal that had entrapped her and Elliot and who knows how many other victims within. Her breathing became ragged, her chest heaving as she fought to maintain her control. She wanted to rip the mechanism from the wall, to pry the deadbolt from the door, to destroy every last piece of the room that had been her prison.

She used both hands to pull at the piece of metal, knowing that it was futile but too angry to care. She pushed and pulled, her heart pounding in her ears as her blood pressure rose, and when her fingers began to throb painfully from the effort, she slammed a frustrated palm against the wall.

Fin slowly approached, gesturing for her to stand aside. He took hold of the door, using his foot to brace it, and with two powerful blows from the butt of his gun, the deadbolt clattered uselessly to the ground. He stooped to pick it up and then turned to Olivia, holding it out for her in his upturned palm.

She stared at it for a long while before extending a trembling hand to take it from him, her eyes burning and her entire body still shaking from anger.

"It's a start," Fin said. "If it was up to me, I'd level the damn place." He reholstered his sidearm, watching as she continued to stare into the room, her knuckles white as she clutched the deadbolt in her hand. "C'mon, Liv," he said softly, his hand coming to rest upon her upper back as he gave her a gentle squeeze at the base of her neck. "You've spent enough time in that room."

She nodded almost imperceptibly, allowing him to guide her away from the door, but when Fin began to shut it she stopped him with the first words she had uttered since he had found her. "No. Leave it open," she instructed quietly, her voice hoarse.

"Okay," he replied, pushing it lightly so that the door swung all of the way open to rest against the wall.

The light was on. The door was open. The deadbolt was gone.

It was over.

Yet as she stared toward the room, she felt no resolution, no relief. There was only pain and anger and loss.

Fin slipped his arm around her waist once again. It was a silent indication that he wanted to move them further down the hall, though he saw the look in her eyes and no longer tried to push her. As much as he wanted to take her away from there, she'd had enough of her control taken away from her over the past five days. This had been _h_ _e_ _r_ nightmare, and she had the right to process it in whatever way she needed. To pull her away from there now would be to satisfy his needs not hers.

Eventually she turned back into him, looking forward down the long hallway that would lead them into the main room. Fin swept his eyes over her face, hoping to reconnect with her in some small way, but her eyes remained stormy, her mind caught somewhere in between the blur of past experiences and the thick wall of emotion that only the briefest shards of the present were able to permeate.

He led her down the hall, worry weighing heavily upon him. Even in the immediate aftermath of her assault in Sealview, he'd been able to reach her. Now, it was as if he was walking with the husk of Olivia Benson - her silence too pervasive, her expression too impassive. In fact, he noted that in stark contrast to even those few days prior when he had come to find her and Elliot in the basement of the rundown home where Nikolai had held Lara, this time, when he had pulled Kane's lifeless body from hers, he had only seen her shed a single tear.

They emerged from the hallway into the upheaval of the main room. A fog of white smoke still lingered in the air and the few glass partitions that had survived the initial raid on the club had shattered from the gunfire, covering the cement floor with a layer of debris that crunched underfoot. Beams from flashlights darted to and fro, reflecting off of the particles of smoke and dust in the air that obstructed attempts to illuminate areas of the predominantly dark interior that had been made even more obscure by the bulbs blown out during the standoff. Officers were hauling away the few remaining henchmen that had managed to remain unscathed by the barrage of bullets that had been fired those chaotic moments prior, while others were cautiously approaching the bodies that littered the floor. Paramedics were tending to the wounded, and it was the sight of a cluster of paramedics rapidly responding to a situation to their left that made Olivia and Fin's blood run cold.

They picked up the pace, quickly making their way across the room to find Elliot still seated behind Kat, his hands pressed tightly against the gauze that now covered her wound while the paramedics worked to start an IV.

Fin stilled, vaguely hearing Olivia's murmured utterance of dismay as he watched the scene unfolding before him. His arm reflexively tightened around her, his heart in his throat as he stared at Kat's pained expression, her face partially obscured by the oxygen mask that had been secured over her nose and mouth.

Olivia ultimately dragged her focus away from Kat to meet Elliot's gaze, the fear and regret in his eyes an indication of the severity of the wound that she was unable to see. She looked back down at Kat whose brow was furrowed and eyes squeezed shut against what Olivia imagined must be incredible pain.

With Elliot's help, the paramedics managed to situate both of them onto a stretcher, Kat still reclined against him and her hand clutching onto his forearm just above the wrist as he continued to apply pressure to her wound. He glanced up at Olivia with concern as they raised the stretcher and started to cart them toward the exit.

She nodded her understanding, continuing to hold his gaze until he disappeared into the fog and the darkness beyond.

Fin might as well have been a statue.

Olivia looked up at him, his expression inscrutable but for the traces of fear in his eyes. "Fin?" She had never seen him look quite so lost.

"Yeah," he replied somewhat distractedly, finally tearing his gaze away from the direction in which the paramedics had wheeled them.

"Let's go," she said with an incline of her head.

He glanced around the room in attempts to survey the efforts of the officers in their midst.

"They can handle it," she said quietly.

He continued to cast his eyes around the room for another moment or two, ultimately nodding his assent when he caught sight of Petrov's crumpled form.

They hastily made their way toward the exit, Fin helping to support her weight as best he could. They emerged into the dusky evening, the red and white lights of the ambulance flickering in the distance as it pulled away. Olivia scanned the area and gestured to what she immediately recognized as being Elliot's car, parked several feet beyond the police vehicles before them.

The keys had been left in the ignition, and Fin helped Olivia inside before taking his place behind the wheel. She thought nothing of the laptop at her feet, merely moving it aside so that she wouldn't damage it.

They drove in silence, Fin speeding along behind the ambulance as Olivia occasionally studied him out of the corner of her eye. His hands gripped onto the steering wheel, his brow slightly furrowed and his gaze never wavering from the ambulance ahead.

They eventually passed a blue sign indicating that the trauma center of Westchester Medical Center was still twenty miles away, and Olivia turned her head over her shoulder, watching the tendon flex as he clenched his jaw. She slowly extended her arm toward him, running her hand down his forearm and giving his wrist a squeeze in a brief gesture of support before she returned her hand to her lap.

He said nothing, but he took in a deeper breath and she knew that he was fighting to stay in control. She turned away, looking out of the passenger side window at the blurry landscape that brought about an eerie sense of déjà vu - the only difference being the gray sky that had yet to fully transform into the black of night.

The minutes stretched on until they finally saw the rooftop of the hospital building in the distance. When they arrived, Fin quickly pulled into the emergency lot. Olivia opened her door, using the handle and the frame as leverage to push herself to her feet. Fin appeared at her side a moment later, a question in his eyes, but she shook her head. She was tired of feeling so dependent, and had demonstrated enough physical weakness in front of her colleagues over the course of the case to fuel a lifetime's worth of humiliation. She took several shaky steps in the direction of the building, but before she realized what was happening Fin's arm was back around her waist, holding her firmly against him.

"You can ream me out later," he said at her frustrated sigh. "I'm not letting go."

They entered the building through the automatic sliding doors, and it was as the heads started to turn that Olivia realized what the pair of them must look like - Fin with his vest and sidearm, and her with her bloodied clothing, scraped wrists and the bruising still plainly evident on her face.

One of the triage nurses scurried around the desk to approach them.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her wide eyes searching Olivia's body for the injury responsible for her blood-soaked appearance.

"I'm okay. It's not mine," Olivia murmured quietly.

The nurse nodded warily.

"An ambulance just arrived here a moment ago. A fellow officer was..." Fin hesitated, "was wounded in the line of duty."

"Oh, of course," she replied. "They would have come in the back entrance. Please follow me."

She led the way, unlocking a set of double doors by means of her ID badge as Fin and Olivia followed closely behind her. After a couple of twists and turns, they found Elliot standing in the hallway, his hand holding his upper arm and his expression grim.

He turned at the sound of their footsteps, his eyes widening in alarm as he caught sight of Olivia's clothing, the fluorescent lighting revealing all that had previously remained hidden in the darkened club. "Are you..." he paused, struggling to prevent the emotion from permeating his tone though the look in his eyes spoke volumes. "Are you hurt?"

She swallowed, shaking her head. "No," she rasped, when he continued to look at her with concern.

Elliot nodded, his eyes darting between her and Fin. "They just wheeled her into the OR," he explained, indicating a door at the end of the hallway to their left. "It'll be a while before we know something."

Fin nodded, looking down the hall.

The nurse's attention now moved to Elliot's arm, and this time, the source of his blood-soaked sleeve was quickly apparent. She moved away from them, heading to a nearby nurses' station in search of a set of gloves.

Elliot observed Fin quietly, debating whether or not to deliver Kat's message. In some ways it felt as if telling Fin now would somehow bring about bad luck, but then he thought about what he would have wanted if the situation were reversed, and decided that Kat wouldn't have asked this of him if it wasn't significant to them. "Fin," he said, dropping his voice.

"Yeah?"

"Kat wanted me to tell you...that she was sorry."

Fin's brow furrowed as he looked back down the hallway.

"She said you'd know what she-"

Fin nodded, but said nothing.

Elliot turned to look at Olivia, their eyes meeting briefly before she dropped her gaze to his arm.

She couldn't maintain the connection. The concern and compassion in his eyes threatened to crack through her defenses, bringing about a surge of emotion that she was only just barely able to prevent from coming to the surface.

He watched her silent struggle, wanting nothing more than to enfold her into an embrace and take her somewhere where it was just the two of them, when she would no longer have to hold herself together.

The nurse returned with the pair of gloves, slipping them on as she moved to him, Elliot's hand falling away to allow her to examine the wound. "Bullet's still lodged in there?" she wondered aloud. "Come with me," she instructed, gesturing to another hallway to the right.

Elliot nodded, waiting until Olivia glanced back up at him before he followed.

Olivia watched them disappear through another set of double doors and then turned around to look at Fin whose back was toward her as he continued to stare off toward the entrance to the OR. She opted to give him some space, lowering herself to sit in one of the chairs in the adjacent waiting area overlooking the hall. She raked her hands through her hair before leaning forward with her elbows balanced on her knees, resting her chin in the hollow between her thumbs and the steeple of her fingers.

She stared at the pattern of tiles in the floor, counting the number of squares, then consolidating the smaller ones into bigger ones and counting those too - anything that would help to prevent her from thinking. Thinking would inevitably lead to a meltdown that could potentially land her in the psych ward at this point, especially given the self-inflicted wounds on her wrists from her attempts to free herself from her restraints. She imagined trying to explain that one to Cragen. The thought almost made her smile. Almost...if it hadn't been for the myriad other emotions that threatened to drown her. Pain and anxiety and despair continued to build within her, manifesting themselves as nausea and coupling with the overwhelming physical and mental exhaustion that adrenaline was no longer able to effectively combat.

Eventually Fin came to sit beside her, his head tilting back against the wall. "How are you holding up?" he asked after few moments.

"Don't ask," she replied wryly, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest.

He nodded slowly as if lost in thought.

She turned her head over her shoulder. "Anything I can do?" she asked softly.

It was a gesture. They both knew there was nothing that either of them could do.

"Nah," he shrugged.

 _"Ever_ _the_ _tough_ _guy,"_ she mused. She pursed her lips, bringing a hand to cover his where it rested on the armrest of the uncomfortable chair. "I have your back too, you know," she added.

He smiled lightly, tilting his head toward her though he did not meet her gaze. "Yeah, I know." He flexed his hand and her fingers slipped into the gaps between his own, curling against his palm as he closed his fingers around hers with a gentle squeeze.

A few moments later, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket and Olivia slipped her hand from his. She glanced at the screen as he flipped it open and saw that it was Cragen. She listened as Fin gave him a brief status report in his typical succinct fashion before snapping the phone shut again.

"Cap's on his way."

Olivia nodded. "How's Munch?" she asked tentatively, bits and pieces of the morning starting to drift back into her awareness.

"He's gonna be fine."

She looked down at her lap, rubbing a hand along her forehead.

"Sorry about Anya, Liv," he said quietly.

She nodded, clearing her throat against the tightness starting to form.

Fin sighed, his expression worn. "Her body was halfway to a landfill in New Jersey when we found her."

"The uh...the watch?"

"Yeah. Gave us a hell of a scare before we realized it wasn't you."

Olivia swallowed, running her hands up and down her upper arms as she remembered the desperation she'd felt when she'd realized the watch was gone.

"You should've heard the earful I got from Kat - pissed as hell that we followed the PDA instead of listening to Elliot." He smiled at the recollection, though as quickly as it had appeared it faded as reality set in once more.

"He got my text message," she followed, her eyes unfocused as she stared off into the distance, once again trapped in the squad car, the cell phone clutched behind her back.

Fin turned to look at her, his expression softening as he caught sight of the pained look in her eyes.

"Liv?" he asked softly.

"Yeah."

"You want to walk me through this before Cap gets here?"

Anguish flitted across her features before she swallowed again and the impassive mask she had worn earlier gradually took its place. "It doesn't matter this time," she murmured numbly, quietly confirming what he had already known about her prior statement.

He said nothing, calmly waiting by her side until her soft voice met his ears. She slowly recounted the events of the day with a hushed tone inaudible to the passers by, Fin's increasingly furrowed brow the only signifier of the grave subject matter at hand.

When she finished, they sat in silence - Olivia from fatigue, and Fin from the need to process all that she had divulged.

At a certain point, self-consciousness took over, and Olivia stood, crossing her arms more securely over her chest. "I'm going to go check in on Lara," she told him, her eyes not quite lifting far enough to meet his gaze.

"Okay."

"You'll um...you'll let Cap and Elliot know where to find me?"

"Yeah...Liv?" he asked, halting her movements as she started to walk away. He faltered when she turned to face him, whatever he'd intended to say remaining locked away. "Nothing. I'm glad you're okay."

She offered him an attempt at a smile, but quickly turned away again as the foreign feel of the gesture only served to bring about another pang of sadness. She folded her arms across her chest, doing her best to cover her marred sweater and hastily moving through the corridors in attempts to draw the least possible amount of attention to herself. It was only after she was halfway toward the PICU that she realized that this marked the first time in days that she'd been permitted to go anywhere without a protective detail - days that felt like a lifetime. It was an odd feeling. Theoretically it meant that the threat had passed - further proof that their ordeal was finally over, yet the abrupt transition from chaos to calm was such that it left Olivia feeling unsettled. After living in a perpetual state of fear and hyper-vigilance, it was as if she had forgotten how to cope with normalcy. The stillness seemed to exist solely externally, and even this seemed artificial. While the rest of the world appeared quiet, she continued to experience the tumult within. She halfway expected all hell to break loose at any given moment - as if the quiet was transitory, merely lulling her into a false sense of security before the threat returned once more.

Doing her best to push the thought aside, she made her way through the twists and turns of the virtually identical looking hallways that she now knew like the back of her hand. She kept her head tipped forward, avoiding making eye contact with those in her path until she reached Lara's floor. As she passed through the last set of doors, she was relieved to spot the charge nurse, Colleen, with whom she had spoken before. Given her appearance and the fact that she did not have her badge, she would have been hard pressed to find anyone else that would have let her anywhere near Lara.

Olivia approached the nurses' station somewhat hesitantly, leaning forward against the counter as she softly called her name.

"Mmm-hmm," Colleen responded distractedly, her eyes glued to the chart in front of her.

Olivia shifted her weight uncomfortably, quietly clearing her throat.

Colleen glanced up at her then, her eyes widening as she took in Olivia's appearance.

Olivia self-consciously scanned her surroundings, trying to gauge how much attention she had drawn to herself before meeting Colleen's gaze once more, silently imploring her discretion.

Colleen gestured toward Lara's room with an incline of her head. "Go on," she said, her eyes kind. "Give me a minute and I'll be right there."

"Thank you," Olivia responded with relief, crossing the hall and slipping into the welcome seclusion of the private room.

Her breath hitched as she took in the sight before her, this time not from grief but from surprise at the subtle changes in Lara's appearance since the last time she'd been able to visit her. Consistent with Fin's report, the ventilator had been removed from the room, the invasive tubing that had been inserted down her throat now blessedly absent as she instead received oxygen through the two small prongs of the nasal cannula resting in her nose. As Olivia drew closer, she could see that the chest tubes still remained in place, yet they were now mostly concealed beneath light blue hospital pajamas with a pattern of stars, moons and bears on them. Lara's once tangled mass of wavy blond hair had been freshly washed and brushed, and as Olivia lowered herself to sit in the chair at the bedside, she could even see a hint of color in her previously deathly pale skin.

Olivia glanced up at the sound of the door opening, her body reflexively tensing before the door opened further and Colleen came into view.

"Hey," she said, approaching Olivia with a thin blanket in her arms. "I thought you might want this. For when you have to go back out there?"

"Thank you." Olivia reached to take it from her, hugging it to her chest as she looked back at Lara.

"You okay?" Colleen asked softly after a pause.

Olivia nodded, her eyes remaining focused on Lara though she seemed lost in thought.

"No more protective detail for this one?"

"No. She's um...she's safe now."

Colleen regarded Olivia thoughtfully. "She's doing great, you know, all things considered. Vitals have been stable, labs normal...all good signs."

Olivia nodded. "Thank you...for all that you're doing. It's nice to see her looking so well cared for."

"Oh, absolutely. This is one of those cases where I know I'll never want to hear the backstory." She shook her head. "I give you a lot of credit, detective. I could never do your job."

Olivia swallowed. "Yeah, well sometimes... Sometimes I don't know that I'm cut out for it either."

Colleen nodded, moving to tuck in a corner of Lara's blanket. "Will her aunt be back to visit her?"

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, the innocent question slicing through her and adding to the unbearable ache in her chest. She tried to center herself, to once again find the place where she was able to lock away the pain, and when she spoke again her voice was barely more than a choked whisper. "No. Her aunt won't be coming by anymore."

Colleen straightened, Olivia's expression telling her everything she needed to know. "I'll be right outside. If you need anything..." She turned away at Olivia's nod, slipping silently back into the hall.

* * *

Olivia wasn't sure how much time had passed when Elliot came to find her.

He lingered in the doorway, his body in silhouette against the bright light of the hall.

She looked up at him wearily, a question in her eyes.

"Kat's out of surgery, but it will be a while before we know anything more."

She nodded slowly, wondering about Fin and Cragen but too exhausted to ask questions. "Take me home?" she asked quietly, her voice raspy from dehydration and overuse.

"Yeah," he replied, his heart constricting at the haunted look in her eyes.

He pushed himself off of the doorframe, extending an arm as she approached, and helping her as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

He rested his palm on her lower back as they made their way down the maze of hallways until they once again emerged from the building into the cold night air. Olivia pulled the blanket more snugly around herself as they walked to his car, standing aside as Elliot unlocked her door.

He held it open for her and she started to get inside, but then stopped to pick up the laptop, holding it out for him as she eased herself into the vehicle. He felt as though the air had been sucked out of his lungs, but he only hesitated for a fraction of a second, taking it from her before Olivia noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Once she was settled he shut her door, putting the laptop on the backseat before taking his place behind the wheel.

They drove in silence, perhaps because they were lost in their respective thoughts, perhaps for lack of knowledge of where to begin.

When they had crossed over the bridge and continued on to the West Side Highway, Elliot suddenly realized that he wasn't a hundred percent sure of where exactly Olivia was expecting him to take her.

"Liv, uh...when you said 'home' did you mean-"

She tensed. Not hers. She couldn't go back there. Not yet. It was Elliot's apartment that had become her haven. It had been the one place that remained untouched by Petrov's threats, but beyond that, the physical space was so much a reflection of Elliot that her mind had transformed it into an extension of the protection and comfort he had offered her throughout their nightmare. During her captivity, as much as she had clung to the hope of him finding her, she had attempted to envision herself back inside of his home, trying to recall the exact color of the bricks on the wall, the grain of the wooden counters, the many details that would serve to create a safe place in her mind that was vivid enough to rival the terrifying images that assailed her in the darkness.

"Yours," she murmured, her gaze fixed on her trembling hands. "Please," she added softly, as if she were ashamed by the request as much as by the admission that she considered his apartment to be home.

"Of course," he pacified immediately. "Liv, I just...I didn't want to be presumptuous."

She nodded, but still didn't meet his eye.

Now that the case was officially over, there was no looming threat that necessitated their continued cohabitation; there were no more excuses. She didn't know what to do with that. Not even a week ago it was rare for either of them to set foot in the other's home, and as much as she would never want to go back to living in fear from one moment to the next, in some ways the constant threat had made things easier. The fear...the sleep deprivation...it all created a lens through which her actions became permissible. It had been okay to relinquish her independence, okay to seek comfort and protection as a human being instead of a cop. Yet now in the absence of Petrov, of the case, she still felt no more capable of being on her own than she had when her life had been in imminent danger. That realization alone unnerved her more than anything.

She felt her tenuous grip on her emotions start to crumble and she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head over her shoulder toward the passenger side window.

Elliot continued to dart his eyes between her and the road ahead, more eager than ever to travel the last few miles.

* * *

There were no words to describe Elliot's relief as they finally trudged up the final flight of stairs to his apartment, safely making their way inside. He closed the door behind them, and it was as if he could finally breathe again - as if he'd been holding it since he'd heard of Olivia's abduction and was only just now remembering how to do so.

Olivia slipped the blanket from her shoulders, draping it over the back of a chair, but no sooner had she done so than she crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture, once again trying to shield herself from view.

Elliot longed to pull her into an embrace - to reassure himself that she was truly standing there, safe and sound, but she was so quiet...rigid...he was afraid to touch her for fear she might break. She was right beside him, but she may as well have been miles away. It terrified him to think of where she might be - of the thoughts and emotions that were churning in her mind.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on his chest so as not to look in his eyes. "No. Thank you. I think...I think I just want to shower."

"Okay," he said softly, understanding in his gaze.

Olivia quietly made her way down the hallway and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She hadn't thought to grab a change of clothes. She didn't care. The only thing she knew was that she could not stand to be in the blood-encrusted sweater for another minute. Mustering her courage, she turned toward the mirror and looked at her reflection for the first time. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. There was so much blood. It had not only drenched her sweater, but had stained her jeans as well, and beyond this, it had adhered to the exposed skin of her neck, her hands, possibly even her hair. With trembling hands she grasped the hem of her shirt, pulling it overhead, and when she let it fall to the floor, the rest of her control went with it.

At first the tears flowed slowly, one by one spilling from her lids as she continued to study her reflection. Ridding herself of the sweater had not removed the evidence of her assault. Instead, she realized that as Kane's body weighed her down, as he had taken his last breaths, the blood from his wound had permeated the barriers of fabric, coating her skin. It was all over her, having seeped so deeply into her pores that she wondered if she would ever be able to feel clean again. She felt tainted - by Kane, by Petrov, and the experience as a whole. Beneath the blood lay the bruises inflicted by Nikolai...by Elliot...and beneath those were the emotional wounds that although hidden deep within remained the greatest violation of all.

As she thought about all that she and Elliot had undergone - all of the horrors that they had weathered, it was the image of Elliot, Petrov's gun pressed against his temple, that affected her so strongly that she physically ached.

She had almost lost him.

She thought about the number of times that Petrov had pulled the trigger. Each and every time she had imagined the worst, and now she saw it play out in front of her eyes as vividly as if it had actually transpired: She could hear the bang of the discharge...see the jerk of Elliot's body and the path of the bullet that shattered his skull. She sobbed, her stomach heaving so violently that she could barely stay upright, and eventually she stopped fighting, doubling over the toilet bowl as the fear and pain that she had tried so long to suppress finally surged to the surface.

Only a few moments passed before the door opened and Elliot slipped inside, coming to comfort her just as she had done for him a few days prior. He wordlessly knelt behind her, his hands gently sifting through her hair to hold it back for her as she fell apart.

The more she tried to rein herself in, the harder she seemed to fall, Elliot's presence beside her simultaneously soothing and painful as the safety and tenderness he offered her reminded her of just how close she had come to losing everything.

Another spin of the cylinder...a fraction of a rotation more...

Her stomach heaved again and she felt as though she might rip in two. She hadn't had anything to eat or drink; there was nothing in her stomach to expel, and yet every violent spasm seemed to seize her whole body as if she were trying to rid herself of an imagined reality that proved too painful to bear. In all of the ways that counted, Petrov would have claimed two lives with a single bullet.

Elliot watched her lurch forward again, her body so fatigued that her arms were visibly shaking as she tried to brace herself against the onslaught as wave after wave of nausea and grief crashed over her. He moved closer to her, transferring her hair into one of his hands and curling his forearm around her, just beneath her arms, so that she no longer needed to hold herself up. "Shhh...It's okay. I've got you," he murmured into her temple.

Her shoulders shook against him, her body slumping forward in exhaustion even as he continued to feel the tension in her muscles as every breath was a gasp for air, every sound a strangled cry.

He brushed his lips against her, rocking her almost imperceptibly as he continued to murmur words of reassurance into her ear.

Gradually her nausea abated and he released her hair, easing her back against him so that she leaned against his chest. She took in a shuddering breath, trying to regain her composure by drawing strength from his warmth and his words, the sound of his voice washing over her and slowly pulling her back into the safety of the present.

Eventually she stilled but for the occasional jerk of her chest in the aftermath of her sobs. They sat in silence together, Elliot continuing a subtle rocking motion that barely registered for either of them in the haze of emotion that engulfed them.

It was only when she shivered - a chill brought about as the air cooled the thin sheen of sweat that coated her skin - that Elliot shifted, helping her to her feet as he stood with her.

Olivia tensed as Elliot tried to pivot her in his arms, knowing that he would see the blood and filth that Kane had left behind. "Don't," she rasped, her hands clutching onto his arm.

"Liv?"

"He's..." she swallowed. "He's all over me," she finished, her words trailing off into a tone so quiet that he almost missed them.

Anguish flitted across his features, his arms tightening around her. "Not him, Liv."

She sniffed, her thumbs skimming back and forth along his arm. "I don't want you to see it...to remember me like this."

"Like what?" he asked, his tone gentle.

She struggled to put the feeling into words - to find a way to explain the revulsion, the shame, the last of so many violations she had endured. "Contaminated," she said softly, her head tilting forward despite the fact that he couldn't see her face.

The description knocked the wind out of him - that she would feel that way...that she would think that he could ever see her that way. "Olivia, I could never think that of you. _Never_." He exhaled slowly, her words weighing heavily upon him. "Liv, I won't make you turn around...but I wish you would because I...I don't want you to have to carry a single part of this alone."

She took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to face him.

He said nothing, giving her time, and when she finally turned around, she kept her eyes closed.

His eyes swept over her briefly before he cupped her face in his palms.

She looked up at him then, trepidation in her expression.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

She shook her head.

His eyes searched hers as if to verify that she wasn't keeping anything from him, and then pulled her toward him into an embrace, his lips resting against her forehead. "Okay," he breathed, trying to prevent himself from holding her too tightly. "I'll uh...I'll give you some space," he said after a few moments, trying to think of her needs although the thought of leaving her alone for any period of time pained him.

He started to pull away, but she stopped him with a light grasp on his wrists.

"Stay with me?" she asked softly.

He trailed his hand through her hair, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, his hand still lingering against her before he ultimately moved away to run the water in the shower. As he waited for it to warm he decided to turn off the overhead light, leaving on the ones that framed the mirror so that the illumination in the room was still sufficient but not jarring. He didn't want Olivia to feel exposed. "Okay?"

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the sadness creeping back again despite the fact that Elliot was there with her. She tried to hide it from him, turning toward the sink under the pretense of looking for the mouthwash, but she glanced up and caught his eye in the mirror and the compassion in his expression only amplified the feelings she was trying to conceal. She refocused on the mouthwash, quickly taking a swig to disguise the quiver of her chin.

Elliot gave her a moment, moving away to test the temperature of the water, his mind filled with the images of Olivia behind the glass, his chest constricting at the recollection of the look in her eyes when it had become clear that she'd made up her mind to stop fighting - to submit to any and every violation if it meant that no harm would come to him or his family. He didn't know what was worse, the personal sacrifices that she had been willing to make for him, for his family, or those that she had already made the first time they had been trapped inside of that room. He thought of the laptop that Kat had intentionally smuggled out of the house to prevent it from being collected by CSU. Her actions had protected both him and Olivia, but had it not been a matter of protecting Olivia's privacy, he would have willingly handed it over to CSU himself. He didn't feel deserving of Kat's protection, and he certainly didn't feel deserving of Olivia's.

He rubbed a hand over his face and returned to stand behind Olivia, wrapping his arms around her waist and watching her continued struggles to keep herself together.

"You know," he murmured, bowing his head to kiss her shoulder, "this is the place where you don't have to do that."

"Do what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Hold back."

She swallowed, their reflections blurring before her as her emotions continued to defy her attempts at locking them away. She attempted a dismissive shrug, but the gesture only succeeded in drawing more attention to her fragility as the trails of tears once again broke free and slid defiantly down her cheeks.

"I'm fine," she said brokenly.

He held her gaze in the mirror, lifting his right arm from her waist to cup her opposite cheek in his palm, his fingers weaving into her hair. He shook his head against hers, his expression pained. "I'm not."

Her chest jerked, the waver in his voice proving to be her undoing as the tears now flowed steadily down her cheeks. She made no sound but for the shaky breaths she managed to take in between reflexive sobs.

He kissed her temple, gently guiding her away from the sink toward the shower before his arms slipped away.

She kept her back to him, her fingers blindly fumbling with the button of her jeans before working them down her body, leaning against Elliot to steady herself as she pulled them the rest of the way off. She hesitated then, not so much from shyness as from the unfamiliarity of the situation.

He brought his hands to curl lightly around her upper arms, taking the time to check in with her once more. "Do you want me to go?"

She shook her head, sliding her underwear down her hips and off of her, and reaching behind herself to unclasp her bra. She made no move to step inside the shower, waiting for Elliot as if even that brief separation was too great after all that they had weathered.

Elliot pulled his shirt overhead somewhat gingerly given the soreness in his arm and his attempts not to mess with the stitches. He continued to undress, stopping once he got down to his boxers and intending to keep it that way, but Olivia noticed and once again indicated that she was okay. He pulled them off, stepping out of them before helping Olivia into the shower and following behind her.

Olivia stepped beneath the spray, unable to suppress an audible sob as the water met the blood on her torso, red-tinged rivulets trailing down her body and swirling down the drain. She leaned forward, bracing her palms against the tile, her shoulders shaking as she wept.

Elliot stepped closer, his hands sliding up her back and over her shoulders and his lips coming to rest against the back of her head.

"Y-you shouldn't get the dressing wet," she managed in between jerky breaths.

"I don't care," he murmured into her hair.

He reached around her for the soap, letting go of her only long enough to work some between his palms. He slid his hands along her shoulders and the nape of her neck, massaging gently in attempts to soothe her.

Her head tipped forward and she tried to take in a deep breath, although her diaphragm was spasming so much that it was more like a series of small ones. She exhaled slowly, doing her best to focus on the feel of Elliot's hands on her skin, but as much as she tried to block out the past, the sickening evidence of the nightmare was right before her eyes, forcing her to relive the moments that she would give anything to forget.

Elliot felt her shudder beneath his palms and he skimmed his hands along her outstretched arms until they covered her own, his fingers then slipping back to curl around her wrists as he coaxed her to pull away from the shower wall.

She allowed him to guide her, leaning against him as he wrapped his arms around her, her head tilting back to rest on his shoulder.

His presence was calming in and of itself. He was there. He was safe.

He held her, his thumbs lightly caressing her sides. It was only when her breathing had become more even that he drew his arms apart again, working some more soap in between his palms. Ever so gently he began to spread this over her abdomen, his hands moving in slow circles as he washed the physical traces of the evening away. He was always conscious of the path his hands travelled, only hoping to offer comfort while focusing on the visible remnants of Kane's death so that Olivia wouldn't have to.

She turned into his neck, choking back a sob as she was flooded by memories of her struggle with Kane - the feel of him forcing himself on top of her, the weight of his body as even in death he pinned her to the ground.

"Shhh," Elliot soothed, his left arm wrapping around her waist as his free hand carefully slid along her ribcage, her sides, her breastbone and the column of her throat, the soapy lather gradually taking the place of that which she had initially tried to conceal from him and the water washing it all away. He collected some more soap for the third time, his hands finding hers. "Here," he murmured, transferring it into her palms.

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and straightened to finish washing herself. She caught sight of him reaching around her, and when his hand settled on the Pantene she smiled through her tears.

"Not a word, Benson," he warned as he squeezed some into his palm.

She released a breath that was almost a chuckle and inhaled shakily as she continued to try to fully regain her composure. Her eyes drifted closed as Elliot's hands massaged her scalp, the perfumed scent of the shampoo actually working wonders on her psyche. Little by little she was starting to feel like a human being again. After all of the hours of isolation and captivity, of terror and abuse, of loss and despair, Elliot was reminding her of what was being restored - of what they had been fighting so hard to preserve. She wasn't alone in this, and what he was offering her with his tenderness and care was standing to become more than she had ever had before.

His hands slowed and she pivoted in his arms, tipping her head back into the spray. His fingers combed through her hair, the last of the shampoo rinsing away, and he lowered his hands to rest on her shoulders. She looked up at him, beads of moisture clinging to her lashes, and although her eyes were red, her tears had stopped falling.

"Better?" he asked softly, his thumbs tracing her jawline.

She nodded, rising up slightly on the balls of her feet as she kissed him gently, pulling back enough to make eye contact. "Thank you."

He enfolded her into an embrace and she responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her cheek against his.

"Anything you need," he replied, emphasizing his words with a light squeeze. "Anything at all. You just ask, okay?"

She fell silent, her breathing increasing as if struggling with something that she wasn't ready to voice.

This.

She needed this.

She needed him to hold her.

Her vulnerability was paralyzing in its intensity. Since childhood, Olivia had prided herself on her ability to take care of herself. She had felt strong, independent, capable of coping with whatever life slung her way. Yet now, in the immediate aftermath of so much trauma, she truly felt as if Elliot was the only thing holding her together - as if everything she had undergone had created fractures in her psyche like cracks in the ice on a frozen pond, and his grip was the one thing preventing her from crashing through into the depths below. She could almost hear the sound of the fissures developing. In her whole life, she had never been more aware of her own fragility, and the awareness of this shook her to her core.

When she finally spoke, her voice held a tinge of urgency and pleading despite her efforts to mask it by her soft tone. "Just don't let go."

"Yeah," he breathed, his arms tightening around her.

For a long moment they clung to each other, as if in response to the desperation they had felt at being unable to reach one another while trapped on either side of the glass - desperation borne from the realization that had the Fates looked upon them differently, they might never have been able to do so again.

"You, uh..." Elliot's voice wavered and he cleared his throat. "You want to soak for a while?"

Olivia nodded.

They drew apart, Elliot changing their positions as he quickly soaped up and rinsed off before switching the flow of water from the shower head to the faucet, lowering the stopper so that the tub would fill.

Minutes later they were immersed in the warm water, Olivia seated between Elliot's legs, her back resting against his chest and his arms around her shoulders.

Olivia's attention was currently focused on the gauze that covered Elliot's bullet wound, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the dressing. Although her body language was relaxed, she'd been quiet for long enough that Elliot was starting to get concerned.

"You still with me?" he asked, his lips brushing against her temple.

She reassured him by running her hand back and forth along his forearm. "Yeah. Mostly," she amended after a pause.

He nodded.

"You shouldn't have gotten this wet."

His lips quirked into a light smile. "Probably."

"It feel okay?"

"I'll live," he replied without thinking.

She tensed in his arms and he wrapped them around her more securely, placing a kiss on the side of her head.

"God, El," she breathed. "Every time he pulled the trigger..." she trailed off, her voice choked with emotion.

She turned her head over her shoulder so that his lips now rested against her forehead, Elliot's hand lifting to cup her head in his palm. "I know," he murmured against her, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"Earlier when I...when you found me here...it's that I keep seeing it play out in my head...but when I see it, it's as if..." A shiver coursed through her and she nestled further into his arms.

"Shhh, I'm right here. He didn't win, Liv. Not him, not Nikolai."

Her eyes welled with tears and she swallowed against the tightness in her throat. "Sometimes it doesn't feel that way."

Elliot slipped his fingers through her damp locks, wishing that he could tell her that he didn't feel the same, but he knew the feeling all too well. He inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly, trying to center himself against the onslaught of emotion. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

She shifted in his arms so that she was curled up on her side, her lips quirking as the movement of her body apparently caught Elliot by surprise.

He cleared his throat, reaching between them to adjust himself. "Give a guy some warning, Liv," he said a bit flustered.

"Sorry."

He heard the smile in her tone.

"For what it's worth, you've been very well behaved," she continued, lightly tapping her index finger on his chest.

He smiled, looking down at her affectionately as he ran his hand along the curve of her arm. "Ah...you noticed." When his hand reached hers, he lifted it to his lips, placing a kiss in the center of her palm. He started to lower it again when he stopped, his thumb caressing the skin beneath her freshly scraped wrist. "What happened here?" he asked quietly.

She self-consciously slipped her hand from his, once again resting it on his chest. "I um..." She sighed, her fingers playing with the beads of moisture that dotted his skin.

He kissed the crown of her head, giving her time, his left hand skimming along her spine.

"They'd taped my wrists behind my back. When I came to the first time, I was in the back seat of the squad car. The second time it was pitch black."

He stiffened when she said "the second time" but to his credit, he didn't interrupt her to question her.

"I didn't know where I was...or maybe I did and was trying to believe otherwise." She shrugged, exhaling shakily. "Anyway, I found a rough patch of cement in the corner. It was the only thing I could use to cut through."

Elliot had closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he imagined the terror she must have felt. "I'm sorry I took so long."

She shook her head against him. "From what it sounds like, I'm lucky anybody came at all." She slid her arm over his chest, hugging him to her as best she could within the confines of the tub. "Thank you...for trusting your gut."

"I knew you wouldn't have sent me wrong information."

"I owe you."

"Nah." He shook his head. "We owe Kat."

They sat in silence for a while, worry weighing heavily upon them. Worry and guilt - Olivia for having gone after Anya to begin with, and Elliot for having left Kat with the sole responsibility for coordinating their rescue. She had willingly stepped into this mess, ready to take on the risks that followed, but that knowledge in no way lessened their feelings of culpability and regret.

"Did Fin stay?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah. He said he'd call."

She shivered and he ran his hands over her back and side.

"C'mon," he murmured into the top of her head. "The water's getting cold."

She nodded, using the side of the tub and Elliot's support to get to her feet.

Despite his best efforts, Elliot couldn't help himself from watching her, the water running down her curves and catching the soft light from the panels beside the mirror. She was so beautiful. Yet then his mind drifted back to the undercover, to the laptop, and immediately the memories of all of the ways he had mistreated her flooded back with a vengeance.

He pushed himself to his feet, releasing the stopper so that the water began to drain and stepping over the side of the tub to join Olivia on the bathmat.

Olivia noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, his avoidance at making eye contact. "Hey, you okay?" she asked, placing a palm on his cheek to try to coax him to meet her gaze.

"Yeah...sorry," he shrugged it off, his eyes flitting up to meet hers briefly before once again averting his gaze and looking around in search of a towel.

"Hey, stop," she said quietly, her left hand mirroring her right, holding him still. She cocked her head to the side, searching his expression for the source of his struggle. "What is it?"

He offered her a sad smile, his forehead tipping forward to rest against hers as his eyes closed. "Sometimes...I look at you...and I think that I'm the luckiest guy alive. And then I think..." his voice cracked, "I think about what I did to you...and I feel like...like I'm drowning."

"Elliot-"

He shook his head, his hands coming to rest upon the dips of her waist. "I don't deserve you, Liv, but I promise you, with all that I have, I'll spend the rest of my life treating you the way you deserve to be treated."

"El-"

He silenced her protest by capturing her lips in a gentle kiss, his lips caressing hers so lovingly that she lost all awareness of anything other than the feel of him before her, the warmth of his breath and the slow movement of his hands as they began to smooth up the curve of her spine. Eventually, he drew back slightly, brushing his lips against hers one more time before he kissed her cheek, her temple, the spot where the column of her throat met her ear, and then he pulled her into an embrace, burying his nose in the crook of her neck as he breathed her in.

Olivia held him to her, wishing that she could somehow find a way to ease his conscience, but knowing that she was as powerless to free him from his memories as she was to free herself from her own.

Elliot felt her shiver again and he reluctantly pulled away, but only just far enough to reach for a towel before helping her to wrap it around herself.

She secured it by tucking an edge beneath the overlap and combed her fingers through her still damp hair. "Thanks," she said, hazarding a glance at his body as he turned in search of a towel for himself.

Elliot didn't bother to do more than wrap the towel around his waist, securing it as she had as droplets of water slowly slid down his torso to be absorbed by the thick cotton. He caught her focus before she met his gaze, a hint of a smile on his lips as he saw the flush light up her cheeks when she realized he'd been watching her.

"Um...do you have anything I could change into?" she asked, fidgeting slightly with the edge of the towel.

He nodded but moved to open a cabinet door as he pulled out some antiseptic ointment and some gauze. "Just let me take a look at those wrists first."

"Elliot, they're fine, really. Please don't worry about it."

"Humor me," he instructed gently.

She sighed but allowed him to do so, leaning against the counter and watching as he tended first to her right wrist, then to her left, all the while carefully avoiding putting pressure on the raw areas. Almost without her realizing it, her vision gradually became obscured by fresh tears as she stared down at the physical reminders of her abduction, her mind filled with the recollections of being trapped and restrained, locked in the one room that Petrov had known would terrify her more than any other. There had been no need for him to have left her bound in that room. She hadn't presented any threat to either of them. The only reason for him to have left her like that was out of the desire to cause further pain and suffering - a calculated and cruel means to inflict yet more psychological torment on her already fragile mind. He had left her that way out of pure malice.

She closed her eyes as a means to keep the tears at bay, but was unable to prevent one from escaping and splashing onto the back of Elliot's hand.

He stopped what he was doing, his eyes scanning her face as he continued to hold her hand in between his own.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm just...so tired."

He lifted his free hand, brushing the hair back from her face. "You never have to apologize for feeling, Liv," he said quietly.

She swallowed, her eyes opening to find his.

"God knows our emotions have been running on overdrive lately."

"I know...but if I weren't so tired I'd be better at...at handling them."

"Handling them," he echoed, unconvinced. "You mean _h_ _i_ _ding_ them." His tone remained gentle even in challenge.

She shifted her weight, dropping her gaze with a frustrated sigh. "I mean coping in a way that doesn't lead to me blubbering every five seconds."

Elliot resumed tending to her wrist, knowing that she'd feel less put on the spot with the added distraction. "Well, first off, you weren't 'blubbering', and second, I'd be more concerned if you were holding it all inside. To be honest, it was when you were so quiet earlier that I was scared shitless." He paused, making eye contact to emphasize his point, before finishing wrapping the gauze around her wrist. "How's that?" he asked, once the dressing was secure.

She said nothing because her throat felt tight again, bits and pieces of the day continuing to assert themselves in her mind like aftershocks from a quake: Anya's throat being slit in front of her. The look in Kane's eyes as he hovered above her with the syringe. Elliot's limp body being dragged out of the room. The revolver. Kane's dead weight pinning her to the cement floor.

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening.

He offered her a sad smile, his hands coming to rest lightly on her waist. "See, this..."

She drew in her lower lip, two silent tears overflowing to roll down her cheeks.

" _Thi_ _s_ , I know what to do with." He closed the distance between them, one hand lifting to cup her cheek in his palm as his lips brushed over the moisture on the other side. He trailed gentle kisses over her cheekbone, her brow, her forehead and then he pulled her close, his hand stroking her hair.

Almost immediately she felt herself relaxing into his embrace. It didn't take away the pain; it didn't prevent the images and memories from forming, but Elliot was somehow able to provide her with a feeling of safety and comfort unlike any other that eased the heaviness in her chest and began to fill a void within her that had been empty for years.

"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled as she spoke into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "For staying with me..."

He nodded against her, his arm tightening around her waist. The fact that she'd trusted him enough to stay with her at her most vulnerable meant more to him than she would ever know. "Thanks for letting me."

Olivia pulled back, kissing him softly, her fingers skimming over the roughness of the stubble that dotted his jaw.

He smiled against her lips. "I could use a shave."

She shook her head. "No, I like it." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she looked up at him a bit bashfully. "Always have."

His hand found hers again, giving it a squeeze as he backed up a pace, turning and walking with her across the hall to his bedroom. He stopped in front of his dresser, starting to sift through the contents of the top drawer. "Boxers and a T-shirt okay again? Or do you want sweats?"

"Boxers are fine, El. Thanks," she said as he handed her the change of clothes.

He pulled out a second set for himself, his eyes sweeping over her as he rubbed his hand along his jaw, gesturing to the hall. "I'll uh...I'll be right outside."

"Okay." She nodded, part of her feeling like it was silly to worry about modesty at this point considering everything from before, but also feeling like there was something about changing in front of him here, in his bedroom, that was slightly different. At any rate, Elliot had helped to diffuse any anxiety she might have felt, quietly walking away and disappearing into the bathroom once more.

Olivia was pulling his gray hoodie around her shoulders when he reemerged into the hall, a bottle of Advil in his hand.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for some of this right now," he said, waggling the bottle from side to side.

She glanced from his bandaged arm to the Advil and nodded, wrapping the flaps of the sweatshirt around herself and tucking them beneath her crossed arms. Her head had been pounding for so long that she had almost become numb to the pain, but the mention of painkillers immediately brought it back to her attention. Beyond her head, her arm muscles were aching from what she imagined was a result of her struggles with Kane for the possession of the gun, her wrists were throbbing, and her body in general was stiff and sore from the restraints and from so many hours spent seated on the cold cement floor.

She followed Elliot into the kitchen, accepting the bottle of water he held out for her and swallowing two pills that she doubted would be strong enough to do much other than dull the pain, not rid her of it. She watched Elliot take two as well and was struck by the realization that she didn't remember the last time she'd seen him take any sort of pain medication. Her eyes widened with recognition. "How's your head?" she asked with concern. She'd been so traumatized by Petrov's game of Russian roulette that she'd almost forgotten about the physical blows he'd delivered.

"It's fine. Just feels like a bad hangover."

Olivia nodded warily.

"Might be a bit colorful in the morning," he quipped, trying to ease her mind.

"Join the club," she replied wryly, gesturing to the bruises that remained apparent on her face and neck. "Sometimes I wonder if mine will ever fade away, or if I'll be stuck looking like this forever."

"You're beautiful."

She flushed, clearing her throat. "Nice try, Stabler," she said, shaking her head as she turned away to face the counter.

Elliot closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "I said you're beautiful, Benson," he murmured against her temple.

She covered his arms with her own, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

He rocked her slightly from side to side, trying to get used to the idea that she was safely back in his arms, no more threats looming on the horizon. In his line of vision he caught sight of the laptop on the coffee table. Every horrible thing he did and said to her was contained within. Every derogatory remark; every forceful way that he touched her. He squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapping around her more securely.

Olivia said nothing, sensing that he needed some time to process whatever it was that he was battling within. She felt the tension in his body, recognized the shift in his breathing.

They remained there in silence, the only sounds being the occasional rumbles and muted honks of the city traffic in the distance.

Eventually he loosened his hold, the feel of her against him and the gentle caresses of her thumbs along his arms beginning to calm him despite the regrets running rampant in his mind. He heard her stifle a yawn and he kissed the side of her head. "You ready to lie down?"

She nodded against him. "I think everything finally caught up with me," she said sleepily, turning into his neck. No more adrenaline. No more caffeine. After days of pressured momentum, she was finally standing still.

"Yeah." He reluctantly slipped his arms away, leaving a hand on the small of her back as they walked back down the hallway to his bedroom.

She crawled under the covers and as soon as he'd followed she curled up against him, her chin on his shoulder and her arm draped across his chest. She shifted her palm a couple of times before leaving it still, and he realized that she had positioned it in a way that she could feel his heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the crown of her head as his hand sifted through her hair.

She was asleep in minutes, her breathing slow and even. He lay there, his hand still intermittently playing with tendrils of her hair, yet he would not allow himself to sleep. No. As soon as he was sure that she was settled, he was going to watch every last second of the footage from the undercover. He was going to see himself as Olivia had in all of the harsh intensity that was encapsulated in the video - a reality that wasn't diluted by the passage of time as so often was the case with one's memories. Only then would he truly know the harm that he had caused, the source of the fears that plagued her in her nightmares.

He ran his hand along Olivia's arm, feeling more blessed yet less deserving than ever. Thanks to Kat, he'd been granted a second chance to make amends, and he was going to do everything in his power to repair the damage.


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter Note:_

 _Re-posting my note from the resurrected SVUfic site:_

 _ **"It's a Fic-mas Miracle!** After 8(ish) years (*hangs head in shame*) I am finally bringing you this update. I am SO sorry that I left people hanging for so long. For those of you who even remember this story, I hope that this does not disappoint. It's really terrifying posting a chapter after this amount of delay...really, really terrifying. I realize I have no right to ask people to re-read the previous chapters, but...I really hope you do, because this chapter delves into more of the healing process that pulls from details in so many previous ones, including Elliot and Olivia's shared trauma in the club. (Because of that, please be aware that some content may be triggering)._

 _For those of you interested in the music I listen to, I basically had Unkle's "Sonata" on repeat throughout most of this._

 _Lastly, there are a handful of people that have been so supportive and have been (patiently) nagging me to continue for a while. I want to thank you so much for your awesomeness. Lucy, especially, this is a shout-out to you."_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty**

Olivia awoke with a start, her heart racing. She was momentarily disoriented in the darkened room, and for several terrifying seconds she thought she was trapped inside of the club once more. As her vision adjusted to catch the hint of the street lamps filtering in through the curtained windows, she realized that she had to be elsewhere. Then she became aware of the softness of the bedding that surrounded her, the dim glow of the clock to her left, and she finally made the connection. Elliot.

Yet she was alone. Puzzled, she slid her hand across the bed to the spot where he would usually lie, but the sheets were cold, long since abandoned and left to catch the chill of the night air. The clock on the nightstand read 3:46am. She tried to remember what time it had been when they had crawled into bed, but the extent of her exhaustion and the after effects of so much emotional overload had left only blurry snapshots of recollections instead of a coherent timeline of events in her mind.

What she did know was that Elliot wouldn't have left her alone tonight unless something was wrong. Not after everything they'd been through.

Concern breaking through her fatigue, she pushed herself up to sit, her arms and stomach muscles protesting the action. She took a moment to collect herself, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and taking a deep breath as she tried to prevent her mind from lingering on the reasons for the renewed soreness. Straining her ears, she was unable to pick up any clues as to his whereabouts, but as she slid out of bed and drew closer to the door, she heard faint sounds emanating from the living room.

She entered the hallway, initially attributing these to being voices on the TV, but at the halfway point she froze, the ever-more audible sounds suddenly resonating in her weary mind.

Crying.

Laughter.

She swayed, her hand darting out to brace herself against the wall.

After several paralyzing moments she forced herself to move forward, numbly placing one foot in front of the other until she reached the end of the hall and the living room came into full view.

Everything stopped.

Elliot was seated with his back to her, hunched over the laptop on the coffee table with a half-empty bottle of whiskey to his right. He had left the lights off, the only illumination coming from the screen, and this only seemed to intensify the brutal impact of the footage from the club.

 _Entertainment center._

Only now did Olivia realize what Petrov had meant. The realization that he and God knows how many other filthy sets of eyes had watched and re-watched her at her most vulnerable was yet another excruciating violation to add to the list of those she had weathered and she was flooded by feelings of revulsion and degradation.

"Elliot?" she called brokenly, her voice catching in her throat.

He visibly tensed, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand, yet he did not turn around - could not turn around. He was tethered to the screen, held hostage by the footage of the monster he had become - the monster that was currently throwing Olivia onto the mattress and forcibly pinning her down. He'd lost track of the number of times he had watched this play out, the number of times he'd heard her pleading for him to stop, the number of times he'd ignored her cries and ripped her dress, exposing her, taunting her...

"Elliot, please."

Her voice was small. Wounded.

 _You're a fucking whore. You know you like it._

Behind him, Elliot heard Olivia stifle a sob, as the Olivia on the screen wept openly. He couldn't bring himself to face her. How could he ever face her after inflicting so much pain?

Olivia watched her head jerk to the side from the impact of his slap. Flinched at the sound of it.

 _Say it!_

"T-turn it off," she attempted, but the pained utterance that escaped was barely more than a whisper, hardly able to reach her own ears let alone carry across the room.

Elliot downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass, the ice cubes colliding with his teeth and then jostling against themselves when the glass met the table once more.

Her voice became stronger, more urgent. "Elliot, turn it off."

 _You're dripping wet._

Olivia began shaking. Witnessing the strangled moan she made as he touched her evoked the memory of it and the humiliation sliced through her once more.

 _I knew you fucking wanted it._

She found her air; found her voice. "Elliot, goddamn it, turn it off!"

Elliot reacted as much to the volume of her desperate cry as the thunderous thud of her fist colliding with the wall. He reflexively tapped the first several keys he could find, succeeding at the least in muting the playback though not familiar enough with the machine to immediately halt it.

He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his hands over his face and clearing his throat. "Sorry," he said gruffly. "I'm sorry."

For a long while, neither of them said a word - Olivia because she was fighting to regain her composure, and Elliot because he continued to stare at the now silent footage on the screen. He was in purgatory. He deserved to be there - deserved to be perpetually subjected to the harsh reality of his sins.

Olivia studied him from her vantage point across the room; saw the anguished expression in his eyes as his gaze remained fixed on the screen. His hands had dropped heavily back to his lap, the tendon in his jaw standing out so tautly that it cast a shadow along his cheek.

She slowly began to approach him, pausing a couple of feet away.

"Elliot, stop."

Her voice had dropped to the soothing, soft-spoken tone that would wash over him even at his worst moments and coax him into calm, but he fought against it. He didn't deserve to be soothed, especially not by her. She had entrusted him with everything and he had taken it all. By agreeing to the undercover op, he had allowed her to give up aspects of herself that she was no where near ready to give, and he had taken them forcefully. He had been cruel. Yet still, _still_ , she was standing here trying to offer him even more.

Olivia ignored the clenching of his fists and closed the distance, coming to stand just behind his shoulder. "Don't do this to yourself. Turn it off...please."

Elliot exhaled bitterly. "Right. Turn it off. Like you do?"

"Elliot, what-"

" _You_ can't turn it off, Liv," he said, finally glancing in her direction before gesturing back to the screen. "This is what you see. This is what torments you night after night. And God knows I remembered every last instant of what I put you through, but I couldn't see what you saw. Couldn't see me through your eyes. Not until now. Not until this. And now I know."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey, but Olivia snatched it from the table, irritation creeping back into her. "This isn't helping," she hissed when he grabbed onto her arm, the contents of the bottle sloshing in protest.

He looked up at her face for the first time, noting the tension in her jaw, her shallow breathing and the glimmer of an emotion he could not yet identify in her eyes. She immediately dropped her gaze, severing their brief eye contact as she focused on his chest instead. His brow furrowed and he stared at his hand on her arm for a few moments before releasing his grasp.

"I think maybe I really am a monster," he said resignedly, looking at the offending hand before returning his gaze to the screen in time to see himself smack her across the jaw.

"El, no." She sighed before she, too, looked back at the footage, and then she froze, her hand tightening around the neck of the bottle.

Elliot was straddling her on the mattress, pinning her arms down while Nikolai stood at her head, his gun pressing against her scalp. She was exposed. Powerless.

Her eyes blurred with tears and she shut them, resolutely preventing any moisture from escaping. "Please turn it off...for me."

She'd just barely been able to choke out her words enough to make them audible, but this time Elliot immediately closed the laptop, sensing the difference.

They were left in total darkness, the air heavy around them.

Elliot's voice eventually broke the silence. "I had to know, Liv. I had to know what you saw. And now that I do, I don't know how you've been able to stand to be around me. I don't deserve your trust, Liv. What I did was...was unforgivable. That my-" His voice faltered and he cleared his throat. "That my body could...could betray-"

"Elliot, stop. Your body responded the same way mine did."

"No," he rasped. "It's not the same. I held you down...touched you...forced you to respond. But me...I'm listening to you beg me to stop, and I still..."

"Elliot, I..."

Elliot heard the waver in her tone and the desire to comfort her overpowered the guilt that was keeping him away from her. He stood, starting to approach but stopping in mid-motion when she held up her palm.

"No, please, it's hard enough for me to say this. I can't say this and look you in the eye."

His heart stopped. "What can't you say, Liv?"

She rubbed a trembling hand across her forehead, trying to muster up the courage to talk about one of the things that made her feel the most ashamed. "I...I remember, at the beginning...when he first told you to...to touch me."

She paused. That wasn't how Nikolai had phrased it, and they were both painfully aware of that fact.

"You had tried to protect me...to shield me...but it wasn't enough for him. And when he told you that, I remember..." Her voice was shaky and had dropped to an almost inaudible level. "I remember feeling panicked. N-not because you were going to touch me, but because you were going to _know_."

"To know what, Liv?"

She shifted uncomfortably, even in the protective darkness that enveloped her. "To know how much I'd responded to you...that it wasn't an act. I knew there was nothing I could do, and when you touched me...and felt..." she trailed off, the memory lingering in the air. " _That's_ when your body reacted, El. We responded to each other, not to the way it was unfolding."

Elliot swallowed, starting to close the distance between them but once again halting his forward motion when he saw her wrap her free arm across her chest in a protective gesture, her gaze darting from the floor to the window beyond his shoulder - anywhere but at him.

"You were ashamed," he replied softly, now realizing that it had been shame, not fear, that had flickered across her features those moments prior - shame that was now so blatantly apparent that he felt like an idiot for having taken this long to recognize it.

Olivia cleared her throat, though it did nothing to rid it of the tightness. "We've been partners for so long, Elliot. This was never going to be an easy assignment. But I..." Her voice faltered, trying to find the words to express the myriad emotions she had felt in that room. "We had roles to play, like we've had so many times. But no matter how hard I tried to remind myself... It was too much. As much as I wanted to stay detached, I needed to cling to the fact that it was you and me in there. But then when I did..." her voice broke.

Elliot couldn't prevent himself from approaching her then, and he was across the room cupping her face in his hands before she could object to his presence. "Olivia, you have _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

She closed her eyes, the smell of the whiskey on his breath exacerbating the memories running rampant in her mind.

"Do you hear me?" he urged. "Never, not for one second in that goddamned room did I think anything other than how strong you were and how much I hated myself for hurting you."

 _Strong_. She let out a dull chuckle, pulling away from him and escaping to stand by the window, her hand gripping the neck of the bottle so tightly that she was surprised it hadn't shattered.

"Liv?"

He watched as she turned her attention to the whiskey in her hand. She raised it to her lips, choking down two large swallows before he caught up to her and wrenched it out of her grasp.

"Denying me a drink again, Stabler?" she asked, running the back of her hand along her mouth.

"I thought you said this wasn't helping," he shot back, setting the bottle down.

She set her jaw. "Yeah, well..." she shrugged.

"You want to tell me what the hell happened just now?"

Her voice rose. "No I don't, Elliot. I just want to put this entire damned thing behind us."

"What, by avoiding it?"

"Dammit Elliot, I don't want to think about it, I don't want to talk about it, and I sure as hell don't want to wake up in the middle of the night and find you _watching_ it." She was baiting him, but she didn't care. Anger was the easier emotion to handle than the alternatives.

"Olivia, I-"

"Did you even stop to think about how I'd feel about it?"

"Liv, I'm so sorry."

"About you watching me cr-"

"I wasn't watching it to watch you! You honestly think that I would do that? That I would-"

"No, dammit, I'm not saying that! But I'm on the fucking tape, Elliot! I don't _want_ you to see me like that. I don't want you to look at me and think back to that night and remember how fucking weak and needy and _useless_ I was!"

"Olivia-"

"For you to remember my pathetic attempts to fight you off, and to know that you're stuck with me watching your back in the field when you're well aware of the fact that I can't even defend myself!"

"Olivia, hold on-"

"And now you've watched it again and again, and I..." She clutched her head in her hands, trying to cling to her anger though the sadness threatened to engulf her more and more with every passing second. "God, I don't even want to know how many people saw me like that." She felt sick. She stared at the laptop with a pained expression, her mind cycling through the possibilities. "Where...where did you even find-"

He heard the waver in her tone and his own was immediately gentle.

"It was at the house." He didn't clarify. He knew there was no need.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Who else..."

"Just Kat and me. She must have taken it out of the house...to protect us."

Elliot watched as Olivia nodded almost imperceptibly, her breathing shallow. She was making it a point to avoid his gaze, and the awareness that she was doing so out of shame - that she felt somehow unworthy to do so - was killing him. What had she said? _Weak_. _Needy_. _Useless_. The terms echoed in his ears. That was his doing. _He_ had made her feel that way. He had used his strength against her. He had hurt her. Intimidated her. Yet instead of hurling the blame where it belonged, she had internalized it. She blamed herself.

Elliot took another step toward her, and this time she didn't move away. The glimmer of unshed tears shone in her eyes and he reached for her, his hand lightly grasping her chin as he coaxed her to meet his gaze. "Olivia, look at me."

He waited for her, needing the connection, and when she finally looked at him, the vulnerability in her expression was such that it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms.

"You and I need to clear some things up, and we need to do it now."

"Elliot-"

He shook his head. "I'm going to say this and keep saying this until you hear me, and then I'll say it some more. You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of. You are the strongest person I know. Never, not for one second in that goddamned room did I think anything like the words that just came out of your mouth."

"El-"

"I have a partner who's the best damned shot in the NYPD, and she happened to use it to save my _life_ that night."

Tears spilled out over her cheeks and Olivia tried to pull away, but he held her fast, his hands framing her face as his thumbs swiped the moisture away.

"You're not weak, you're not needy, and before you talk about being unable to defend yourself, you need to be in a fair fight."

She closed her eyes, hiding from him in the only way in which she was able.

"Liv, you felt that way - _feel_ that way - because of me. What I did...what I said... That was my fault."

She shook her head, reopening her eyes if only to argue with him again. "That's not true."

"You said it yourself; I've watched it again and again. I've watched it enough times to know what I put you through, and I know _you_ , Liv. I know how you beat yourself up inside even when you're the last person on earth that deserves blame."

He let his hands fall to her shoulders, this time not protesting when her chin ducked down, severing their eye contact once more.

"I just thought..." She exhaled shakily, her voice small. "I thought that I'd have been able to do a better job."

His brow furrowed. "A better job at what, Liv?"

"A better job at...defending myself."

"How?" he asked softly, his thumbs caressing her collarbone.

She swallowed. She'd blurted it out with Huang, but somehow that was easier than trying to voice it with Elliot. "I wasn't...I wasn't cuffed this time."

Elliot's hands tensed against her shoulders, but he remained quiet, waiting for her to continue.

"Before, I'd tried to convince myself that that would have made the difference. And then we were in that room and even though I knew that the whole point was for me to lose the fight..." her voice faltered. "I wasn't holding back, Elliot," she murmured, her expression stricken. "I wasn't holding back."

She looked up at him then, trying to gauge his reaction, but as soon as she saw the compassion in his eyes she crumbled, her chin quivering as fresh tears began to fall.

Elliot pulled her into an embrace, his hand weaving into her hair.

Her arms were trapped between them, but her fingers clutched onto his shirt, her chest spasming against his though she barely made a sound.

"Shh...you have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing." He spoke against the crown of her head, rocking her slightly as he fought just as hard to keep himself together.

"I felt so helpless."

"I'm sorry...so sorry." He pulled her even more tightly against him. "It wasn't a fair fight, Liv."

Olivia swallowed against the seemingly perpetual lump in her throat. "I could only imagine what you must have been thinking of me."

Elliot shook his head. "There was a moment..." he paused, the scene playing out in his mind. "Nikolai had struck you so damned hard, and I just _lost_ it. I wanted to rip his goddamned head off. I went out of my mind just...worrying...praying that you'd be okay. But by God you fought him, Liv. You fought with everything you had...and there I was, standing there...standing by _watching_ when all I wanted was to take him down." He swallowed, his throat tight. "But before I knew it, you had gotten yourself over to the door, and somehow... _somehow_ you dragged yourself to your feet. And I remember that moment - knowing that the bastard didn't get the satisfaction of keeping you down. I was so damned proud, Liv. Proud to have you as my partner, and scared as shit about losing you...losing everything."

He closed his eyes, breathing her in, finding comfort in the knowledge that she was safely in his arms.

"You put yourself through hell and back again for the _idea_ of Lara," he continued. "You had no way of knowing if she were alive or dead, if we'd be taken to her - hell, if she even existed. You did it all for a faceless vic, because that's who you are."

He pulled back, sweeping his gaze over her face.

"Strong doesn't even cover it, Liv. I'm so sorry I made you feel less than that."

Olivia shook her head at the regret in his eyes. "It's not your fault. I meant what I said when I told you to place the blame where it belongs. Blame Nikolai; Petrov. I have never - not at any time during this case - blamed you for any of this. The things you had to say and do... _it saved our lives_ , Elliot. You did what you've always done. You protected me."

Elliot exhaled bitterly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the laptop, the tension coiling itself back into his muscles.

Olivia wasn't having it. Her hands lifted to frame his face, gently but firmly holding him still. "Dammit Elliot, will you just _listen_ to me? You got us out of there in one piece. You made Nikolai believe that you wanted to play his games. If he hadn't been convinced - if you _hadn't_ been convincing - we would never have made it out of the club. We would never have been taken to Lara. Tell me that you know this," she urged, her eyes searching his.

"I know it. I _do_ ," he conceded reluctantly, when the worry didn't leave her expression.

"Then why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked, letting her hands fall away and gesturing to the laptop with an incline of her head. "Did you think I didn't understand?"

Elliot sighed. "I know you understand why I made the choices I did, but that doesn't change the fact that you were subjected to them. I hurt you, Liv."

"Elliot, I'm fine."

He smiled sadly at the automatic folding of her arms over her chest and the slight rise of her chin in the air. Defiant. Beautiful.

"Liv, when it was over - when we were about to be released from that room - I reached for you and you flinched; I mocked you and you couldn't look me in the eye. Those reactions weren't because of the profile. I know you too well." He slipped a hand through her hair, his thumb caressing the shell of her ear. "It kills me, knowing that I can never erase the pain I caused you."

"Elliot, _this_ is hurting me; you torturing yourself is hurting me. You have to let it go."

He hesitated, his eyes cloudy with regret. "I don't know that I can. Every time I hear you cry out in your sleep...knowing that I'm the cause... I can never forgive myself."

Olivia sighed, wishing that she hadn't divulged that piece of her experience. "You're not the cause, El. Yes, sometimes you're there, but it's never the real you." She ran her hand along his arm. "It's the absence of the qualities that make you who you are that is the most terrifying in the dreams." Her expression was earnest, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

He drew a hand along his jaw, unable to rid himself of the self-loathing coursing through his veins, nor the recollection of the terror in her eyes as he forcibly held her down.

She watched his silent struggle, wishing she could say something to make things right. "What I can tell you is that the nightmares are evolving, and if I cried out tonight, it wasn't because I was afraid of you. I was afraid _for_ you."

Confusion flitted across his features. "Petrov?"

Olivia nodded. "My subconscious is apparently working things out the hard way." She reached for him after a pause, resting her fingertips lightly on either side of his face. "Please come to bed," she said, her eyes searching his.

The request was made quietly, her expression earnest - trusting - but Elliot remained rooted on the spot, his conflicting emotions continuing to wage their war within.

"I almost lost you today," she said softly, her chin quivering slightly although she succeeded in preventing the tears from coming to the surface. "And now...tonight...I feel like I'm losing you all over again."

"Liv, I'm right here."

"No, you're not." She shook her head, gesturing to the laptop. "You're _there_. You're back in the club. And I need you to be here so badly. Because I'm fighting so hard to leave it behind and I can't do that when you look at me and see that night."

"Liv, I don't-"

"It's in your eyes. You're doing it right now. And when I see it...I'm right back there again with you."

Olivia let her hands fall to his waist, her head tipping forward despondently as she looked at the ground between them.

Elliot closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

"Please, El," she added shakily, trying to prevent memories of both their night undercover and the events with Petrov from coming to the surface.

 _I can't do this without you._

He heard the traces of pleading in her tone and it was his undoing. He didn't deserve to be close to her, but was unable to maintain the distance if it meant exacerbating the insecurities his actions had wrought in her mind.

"Okay," he responded gruffly.

He slipped his hand into her hair, the warmth of his palm seeping into the nape of her neck where it rested against her.

Elliot pulled her to him, placing a kiss against her forehead in attempts to offer reassurance, but he couldn't rid his body of the tension coiled into his muscles. He inhaled deeply, trying to will away the anger and remorse, but he felt like he was crawling out of his skin.

His hand fell away again and Olivia took a small step back, silently observing his body language as he cranked his neck to each side, his jaw clenching reflexively as his gaze settled onto the laptop beyond her shoulder once more.

Olivia pursed her lips wryly, realizing that sleep would not be coming anytime soon. She tilted her head to the side. "You want to walk this off, Stabler?" she prompted quietly, already knowing the answer.

Elliot remained silent for a moment, somewhat distractedly processing her words. His eyes eventually found hers again. "I'm…it's fine," he replied hesitantly, taking in her weary expression. "You should get some sleep."

"I already got some."

His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to protest, but she preemptively silenced him with a light shake of her head.

"I'll be right back," she said, turning and disappearing down the hall.

* * *

Olivia reemerged a few minutes later, having pulled on a pair of jeans but opting to remain in Elliot's sweatshirt. She found him in the kitchen, lost in thought as he stared off in the direction of the pot of coffee that was starting to brew.

He glanced over his shoulder as she continued her approach, offering her a tired smile that did not reach his eyes.

"We don't have to do this, you know," he ventured.

Olivia closed the distance between them, smoothing her palms upward along the taut planes of his back until they curved around his shoulders and kneading gently in attempts to work out some of the tension.

"Yeah, we do," she replied, her hands eventually stilling their movements as his came to rest on top of hers, their fingers interlocking.

They remained like that for a while, the soft noises emanating from the coffee maker the only disruption to the silence.

"Sometimes I think you know me too well," he said quietly after a pause. His fingers tightened their grip around hers before he released her once more.

"And that's a bad thing?"

He heard the tinges of uncertainty in her tone and pivoted to face her. "No, not a bad thing." He swept his gaze over her affectionately, but with concern in his expression. He was worried as much about her physical well-being as her emotional state. She could not have gotten more than two hours of sleep. Her face was pale and dark circles lay heavily beneath her brown eyes.

Olivia had undergone more trauma in the past several days than anyone should have weathered in a lifetime. What she had endured in the past twenty-four hours alone was unthinkable. That she had been held captive in _that_ room for such an extended period of time - seemingly without the hope of rescue - trapped with the memories of all that had transpired within those walls… Elliot's chest constricted, his feelings of failure and guilt fueling his self-hatred once more. She shouldn't be going anywhere tonight. She should be wrapped up in his arms, in his bed, and he should be keeping his anger at bay - at the very least doing a better job of concealing it from her. Instead, Olivia was putting his needs above her own because he was the piece of shit that couldn't rein himself in.

Olivia watched the darkness cloud his features once more.

"Elliot?"

He rubbed his hands over his face.

"Elliot, I'm _fine_."

He refused to look her in the eye, his defenses building up faster than she could tear them down.

She sighed with resignation, stepping around him to take his place at the counter. "I'll take over here," she said quietly. "Go get changed."

Elliot stood still for a moment or two, fists clenched at his sides, but eventually stalked off in the direction of his bedroom.

By the time he returned, Olivia had poured coffee for each of them and was perched on one of the stools with her back to the counter. This time, it was her gaze that was fixed on the laptop across the room, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as her mind conjured up flashes of memories that caused her heartbeat to race and her hands to tighten their grip on her thighs. The more she tried to shut them out, the more they seemed to take hold, rational thought becoming ever more eclipsed by adrenaline and a sense of panic.

She startled almost imperceptibly at the sound of Elliot's footfalls, taking a moment to collect herself before turning her head toward him and somewhat hesitantly meeting his eyes. His features remained hardened in anger and he held her gaze with a palpable intensity that burned into her despite the fact that he lingered by the hallway several paces away.

She felt it then - stirrings of apprehension and unease that she hadn't felt to this degree since the night they had gone undercover in the first place. There was something about his stance, the rigidity in his body language, that was eerily reminiscent of the way he carried himself that night. A shiver ran down her spine and Olivia set her jaw, desperate to prevent Elliot from becoming aware of her state of mind. It would only exacerbate his anger at himself. She didn't understand the magnitude of her own response - whether it was the footage from the club that had triggered this reaction in her, or something deeper.

She remained frozen as he finally moved again, slowly making his way toward her.

Her breathing quickened and she fought to control it. Once again, her mind was playing tricks on her, recollecting Elliot's slow approach in the club in vivid detail.

 _There's no place to run._

She dropped her gaze and squeezed her eyes shut, willing the room to transform back into the living space that had become her haven.

Before he could close the distance completely, she pivoted on the stool toward the counter, grasping one of the travel mugs and extending it somewhat shakily in his direction.

She felt him hovering over her, but wasn't ready to meet his eyes. Instead, she kept her focus trained safely on the coffee in her hand. "You ready?" she asked softly, when he didn't make a move to take it from her.

Despite the intensity of his anger, Elliot hadn't missed the shift in Olivia's response to him when he reappeared in the room. He studied her for a moment and then slowly reached his hand toward her.

Olivia watched as he eased the mug from her grasp, his fingers brushing against hers in the process, and then swallowed uncomfortably as he merely set it back down on the counter.

Elliot turned toward her once more, his movements so carefully restrained that he might have been moving in slow motion. His right hand lifted to gently sift through her hair, the pad of his thumb caressing her cheek, and when she didn't flinch at the contact he brought his left hand up to mirror his right and bent forward, pressing his lips to the crown of her head.

He straightened slightly, leaning into her rather than coaxing her to shift into him, his fingers weaving more deeply into her hair as he held her.

Olivia felt herself start to breathe again, his actions the polar opposite of those in the club. She wondered if he even realized the parallels that had made her fearful in that moment, or if he had just picked up on her nonverbal cues. She rested her head against him, her heart rate gradually returning to normal.

"I'm sorry," he rasped darkly.

She shook her head against him.

"You need to know... You're safe with me. No matter how-"

"You think I don't know that?" she interrupted, pulling away from him and looking up at him in pained disbelief. "I know you better than anyone."

"And I know what I just saw, Liv."

"What you _saw_ was my mind spiraling out of control again thanks to that damn footage," she countered, making a frustrated gesture toward the laptop.

"Made worse by the fact that I'm doing a shit job at controlling my anger." He turned away from her, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He never wanted to see that fear in her expression again, especially not directed at him.

Olivia took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep frustration at bay. Another argument wouldn't do either of them any good. She didn't know how to convey that her response wasn't due to a lack of trust in him; it was her own broken mind.

"Elliot, neither one of us is at our best right now. Re-living that night didn't help any. So either we go get some air or take the damn laptop to the shooting range, but one way or another, we need to clear our heads."

Elliot looked at her over his shoulder, his lips quirking at the thought of how they would explain a 5:00am target practice - on a laptop - to anyone at the precinct.

She was looking at him expectantly with a level of frustration and exasperation that could only be brought about by exhaustion.

He shook his head, more to himself than in response to her, sliding one of the travel mugs along the counter in her direction before taking hold of his own once more.

"Okay then," she acknowledged with an air of finality, pushing herself off of the stool to stand beside him.

They made their way to the door, taking turns holding each other's coffee as they put on their respective jackets.

Olivia was in the process of fastening hers when Elliot's voice finally broke the silence.

"Hammer," he said flatly.

She looked up at him in confusion, flicking her hair out from beneath her collar.

"A hammer," he repeated, although this time the smirk was clearly visible as he inclined his head toward the laptop. "More cathartic and fewer witnesses."

Olivia arched a brow, her eyes twinkling back at him. "Do I get to go first?"

"Of course," he replied. "What kind of partner would I be if I didn't uphold tradition?"

"The traditional destruction of evidence?" she asked skeptically.

"Ladies first," he nodded. "Besides, it's not destruction of evidence as much as preservation of the right to privacy." Although his words continued their attempt at banter, his tone was gentle and his eyes betrayed his underlying concern.

"Hmm," she uttered somewhat noncommittally as she took her coffee from him once more.

He watched as a contemplative look washed over her, her thumb absently tracing the rim of her mug. When she ultimately looked up at him again, all traces of amusement had evaporated from her expression leaving pained determination in its wake.

"Only once we're one hundred percent certain that no one else is on that hard drive."

Elliot wasn't surprised by her statement. In his eyes, it only served to further emphasize Olivia's courage and generosity of heart. She would not hesitate to turn the laptop over to CSU if it meant the possibility of attaining justice for another victim of Nikolai and Petrov's warped games, regardless of what that would mean for herself - including the number of people that would, by extension, bear witness to all she endured within those walls. He didn't have the words to describe the admiration he felt for her in that moment. Even if he had, he knew she would never acknowledge the personal sacrifices she was prospectively steeling herself to make - at least not openly.

"Elliot?" she urged softly when he didn't immediately respond. She knew that what she was asking extended beyond herself. His actions would be put on display as well. It couldn't be her decision alone.

"Agreed," he reassured her. "You don't need to worry about me, Liv," he added gently when she continued to search his expression as if waiting for a sign that he was holding back.

She nodded slightly in response, her eyes holding his.

"C'mon," he coaxed, trying to extricate himself from her silent scrutiny. He placed his hand on the base of her neck, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Let's get some air."

His hand fell away as he moved to open the door, holding it open for Olivia as she passed through. He followed her into the hallway and Olivia waited as he locked the door behind them. Once again she was flooded by another memory that seemed almost tangible due to the strength of emotion that accompanied it. The last time they had emerged from his apartment, it had been to face the throng of reporters below.

 _Stay close to me._

She stared off in the direction of the staircase, remembering the loss and trepidation she had felt at having to leave this relative sanctuary behind to have to return to the precinct once more. At the time, not only had they been faced with the impending threat posed by Petrov and the uncertainty as to how he'd make his next move, but they had also been forced to conceal the shift in their relationship that Olivia had feared was tenuous at best. Despite Elliot's attempts at reassurance, when they'd left the confines of his apartment that morning, she'd felt as though she was losing everything that had been contained within.

So much had happened in such a short period of time, and Olivia still felt as though she hadn't regained her footing. She hadn't lost Elliot - physically or emotionally - amid all of the catastrophic events that followed; yet that didn't change the fact that all of the disclosures made and feelings bared had emerged as a result of their defenses being stripped away due to trauma and emotional upheaval. She was still worried about what would happen when they reacclimated to a semblance of calm - once she was better in control of her emotions and Elliot no longer felt the need to protect her to this degree.

She attempted to push the thought aside, but was unable to fully quell the nagging insecurity that she might not be enough, or that he might begin to view her differently in the absence of the crisis.

Beside her, Elliot had been quietly observing her, trying to discern the source of her current struggle. He wasn't sure what thoughts were running through her mind, but he hadn't seen her blink or take a breath in what felt like ages, her expression stricken, and he had to try to reach her once more.

"Liv?"

His soft voice met her ears as he closed the distance between them, coming to stand just beyond her shoulder.

Her body jerked to attention and she pivoted slightly to face him.

"You want to tell me where your head went just then?" he continued.

She shook her head, leaning against the bannister at the head of the stairs. "It's nothing, El. I'm just…I'm having a hard time staying in the present right now." She rubbed the back of her hand along her forehead, hoping the broad generalization would be sufficient for him.

Elliot considered her response. He had been having a similar struggle, but he was concerned about the pained look in her eyes that had seemed to intensify the longer her silence had stretched on. There was no doubt in his mind that she was holding something back, but he opted not to push her for the time being. His hand found hers when she dropped it back to her side, his thumb brushing along the inside of her palm. "So we'll try to find ways to keep each other grounded."

He held her gaze, his fingers tightening around hers.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, squeezing his hand in return.

He backed up a pace or two, maintaining his grasp on her hand as he gently tugged her away from the wall.

Olivia readily followed his lead, matching his steps as they headed down the stairs.

They emerged from the building and took a moment to adjust to the chill in the air, the city relatively quiet in these last moments before dawn.

"You want to head anywhere in particular?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," she replied. "Wherever you want to go."

"Want to cut through the park for a while?"

"You looking to get us mugged?" she teased.

His eyes narrowed. "They wouldn't dare."

While she was sure he wouldn't mind getting into a brawl, his confidence became clearer when their joined hands brushed against the off duty weapon concealed on his hip. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Lead on, Detective Stabler."

They walked a few blocks in silence, Olivia nursing her coffee when they paused at busier intersections and noting the way Elliot's eyes subtly but continually scanned their surroundings.

When they neared the park, Olivia couldn't help but call him on it. "You always carry when you go out for a morning stroll?"

He heard the challenge in her tone. His lips lifted into a hint of a smile, but he merely took a sip of his coffee instead of offering a response.

"Mmm," she mused knowingly, continuing to walk alongside him.

They entered the park and began to wind their way along one of the paths, silence descending upon them once more.

It was several minutes later when Elliot finally responded somewhat cautiously to her initial question - as if he had been internally debating whether or not to do so.

"I carry when I have something worth protecting…"

He slowed his pace then, stopping beneath the soft glow of one of the street lamps that dotted their path. He turned into her, sweeping his eyes over her face with a mixture of pained devotion and longing before apprehensively holding her gaze.

"...and when I have something I'm terrified to lose."

Olivia's breath hitched, unprepared for the statement itself let alone the depth of emotion that pervaded his expression and tone. "You're not going to lose me, El," she managed to utter past the tightness in her throat.

"I don't just mean physically, Liv," he rasped. He thought of the ways he had failed her, and the glimpses of fear and pain that he'd continued to witness take hold of her in the aftermath like aftershocks from a quake. He was worried about the impact his proximity would continue to have - if it was a trigger for her; if he was doing more harm than good. Letting her go would ruin him, but he would do anything for her if it meant that she could heal. He could barely get the words out, but he forced himself to continue. "But if, after everything I've done...if it's too much for you-"

"Dammit, Elliot, _stop_." Olivia's eyes stung again, tears forming quickly from the combination of grief and the cold.

"I just want to do right by you, Liv. There is a look you get sometimes, and I don't know how to read it. It happened again on the stairs. I won't ask you to tell me what that actually was, but when I see it... It's beyond loss, Liv. It looks like you're being ripped in two. And if it's me..." his voice cracked. "If it's my fault-"

She let out a sad laugh, tilting her head back and looking up at the sky. "You just don't get it, Elliot." She shook her head to herself, closing her eyes and trying to breathe under the weight of the emotion that engulfed her.

He waited for her, knowing that he wouldn't be able to speak even if he tried.

When she continued, her speech was pressured and full of pain, as if the only way the truths could be communicated was if they were forcibly ripped from her throat, the words imbued with her tears. "It _is_ you," she said, swiping frustratedly at the moisture coating her cheeks, "but it's nothing like what you think."

Her chest rose and fell unevenly under the strain of trying and failing to keep herself together, her voice beginning to rise - less talking to him than crying at him as the dam broke.

"You…this… It's not too much for me. It is _everything_ to me."

She raked a hand through her hair out of an inability to hold still, this degree of openness foreign to her and making her want to escape, but she fought against the urge to shut down.

"I promised you I wouldn't run from this, Elliot, and God, I'm trying…but it was the case that brought us to this point, and now?" Her voice broke. "N-now the case is over."

Elliot opened his mouth to protest but she held up her palm.

"And I know what you told me about your feelings, and I want to believe you so badly. But I don't know how this works, Elliot!" She no longer attempted to stop the tears from falling, the icy trails numbing her skin a bit more with each gust of wind. "I don't know how to make you understand. You are so worried about your actions that night. So worried that you did something to break me." She took in a shuddering breath, anguish in her eyes. "You didn't break me, El. Not then. That will fade. Losing this? Losing you? _That_ will break me."

Elliot strode forward, pulling her into his arms and clutching onto her as tightly as possible without causing her harm, his hand fisting into her hair. Her chest reflexively spasmed against his, and he let out a ragged breath in her ear. "Okay…okay," he managed in attempts to soothe her, his voice rough.

She clung to him just as tightly, squeezing her eyes shut in an effort to block out all else but his presence. This time, she didn't care about all that she had revealed to him, not if it meant that he might be able to finally hear her. He had been tormenting himself for so long out of guilt and regret, and it wasn't helpful to either of them. The vulnerability she felt in this moment was no greater than that which she'd been feeling over the course of the past few days - perhaps less so now that she was once again wrapped up in his arms.

Elliot eventually relaxed his grip on her hair, cradling the back of her head in his palm, but he maintained his hold on her with the arm around her waist, continuing to pull her as closely as possible into his warmth. He pressed his lips against her temple before repositioning his mouth to speak into her ear, his voice choked with emotion. "I'd be broken too, Liv." He shook his head against her, looking for a way to make her understand. "When Kat and I got to the house and you weren't there…" He faltered. "I don't have the words, Liv. I thought I'd lost everything."

Olivia turned into his neck, a shudder rolling through her as she imagined the way she would have felt if their roles had been reversed.

"I'm not confused, Liv," he urged. "This isn't because of the case. You have all of me."

They remained locked in the embrace for an indeterminable period of time, each of them needing the tangible reassurance of the permanency of the other. They had sought to ground one another, and the intensity of their physical connection was helping to anchor them to the present.

Elliot didn't relax his hold until Olivia's breathing had returned to normal. It was not unlike the moment he had sought to comfort her in the immediate aftermath of the events in the club, when the only means he'd had to provide support centered upon taking slow, even breaths as she rested against him. He caressed the side her face as they finally drew apart, their eyes communicating a silent understanding of their shared need. His lips found hers for a brief kiss, but it wasn't about that type of intimacy for either of them in that moment. She nuzzled her nose against his, their foreheads resting against one another's and Olivia's hand encircling his wrist as he continued to cup her cheek in his palm.

Eventually he straightened, their fingers interlocking as he lowered his arm once more. "You ready?" he asked, feeling decidedly more at peace.

She nodded.

He glanced up at the gradually lightening sky, suddenly knowing where he intended to bring her. "C'mon," he said with a small smile.

They wound their way through a few more twists and turns along the path, eventually coming upon a wooden bench overlooking the Bow Bridge. They sat beside one another, Elliot's arm draping across her shoulders as he pulled her more closely against him.

"You warm enough?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," she replied, relaxing into his side.

They sat in silence, occasionally taking a sip of coffee as they waited for daybreak. As the sun began to rise, Olivia realized why Elliot had chosen that particular vantage point. The buildings in the periphery began to light up with an amber glow, the light stone of the bridge becoming more visible as it cast a reflection onto the tranquil water below.

After the light had broadened sufficiently to signal the full start of day, they stood, stretching their limbs that were somewhat stiff from the cold.

Elliot studied her, trying to gauge her level of fatigue. "You want to head back or are you okay to walk a bit more?"

"Let's keep going," she replied. "Maybe grab a bite somewhere?"

"Yeah, I know a place," he nodded. The mention of food made him realize how hungry he actually was. "Mind if we make a quick stop along the way?"

She shook her head, wondering where he intended to go at this relatively early hour.

They eventually emerged from the south side of the park, traversing a few more blocks before he began to climb the steps leading up to St. Patrick's Cathedral.

He glanced over his shoulder, a slight question in his eyes, and she smiled in response. His faith was something she respected - sometimes yearned for herself. She didn't believe, but she'd always found the cathedral to be a peaceful and beautiful place.

Upon entering, he made his way to a cluster of prayer candles to their left, making a donation and placing three candles side by side. Olivia knew the sentiment behind them.

Kat.

Lara.

Anya.

She rested her head against his shoulder as he lit them, holding each person in her thoughts as the flames flickered and reflected against the glass. In that moment, she found the ritual comforting, allowing a brief wave of calm to wash over her despite the underlying currents of pain and regret.

They lingered in silence for a while, lost in their respective thoughts, eventually following one another's cues and slowly making their way toward the exit.

"Thank you," Elliot said as they headed back down the steps once more.

"Of course."

She slipped her hand through his crooked elbow, smiling as he collapsed it soon thereafter, pinning her hand against his side.

"Deli's not too much farther," he explained.

"Good," she replied more emphatically than she had intended, resulting in a chuckle from Elliot who nodded his head in agreement. "I actually don't remember the last time I ate," she mused.

"Plenty of greasy breakfast food where we're headed," he reassured her, his statement preempting any significant reflection as to the reasons why neither one of them had eaten in such a prolonged period of time.

"Perfect," she grinned.

True to his word, they arrived at the deli only a short time later, her mouth watering at the aroma that met them as he held open the door.

"This place is an institution," he said as she slipped into one of the booths. "Have you ever eaten here before?"

"No," she shook her head. "I've been meaning to." She shrugged out of her jacket and he took it from her, draping it over the back of a chair to join his own.

He hesitated then, about to sit across from her when he changed his mind, opting to slide in beside her instead, extending his arm along the cushioned seat back behind her.

She smiled but said nothing, dropping her gaze to look at the menu the waitress plopped down in front of her.

"Don't start with me, Benson. It's been a long night."

If anything had been clarified thus far, it was that both of them were presently able to function better when the physical boundaries were removed. Perhaps it served as a concrete reminder that a return to normalcy didn't include a return to the carefully defined personal space that they had maintained over the course of their partnership.

"I wasn't complaining," she offered, shifting to nudge her knee against his.

He smiled at the contact, picking up his own menu although he always ordered the same thing. "Good."

Thankfully they had beaten the breakfast rush, and their food was delivered quickly. Olivia thought that they might have been the best eggs and home fries that she'd ever tasted, so grateful was she to have sustenance in her belly. She hadn't mentioned it to Elliot, but the residual effects of the drugs in her system had left her feeling shaky and a bit lightheaded - likely not helped along by her empty stomach. She ate until she couldn't manage another mouthful, leaning back against the booth with a contented sigh, her head tilting to rest against Elliot's shoulder.

He speared one last piece of potato from her plate, figuring she wouldn't mind given her apparent contentment, and rested his fork down as well.

"Better?"

"Much."

Not wanting to remove the arm from behind her shoulders, he reached across himself to cover her hand with his own, neither of them feeling pressure to leave. They likely would have remained there for some time, had it not been for Elliot's cell phone which began ringing from the pocket of his jacket.

He reluctantly slipped his arms away, leaning over the table to retrieve it.

"It's Fin," he told her after checking the screen.

Olivia raised her eyebrows, praying that he would have good news about Kat.

"Stabler," he answered.

" _Elliot."_

"Yeah, Fin. How is she doing?"

" _Kat's okay. They were able to move her out of recovery to a private room on the floor."_

"That's good news," Elliot replied for Olivia's benefit. "You staying with her?"

" _Yeah. Listen - there's something you need to know."_

Elliot heard the anticipation in his tone.

" _She's awake, Elliot."_

"That's good, right?" he replied with a furrowed brow, trying to discern the message.

" _Not Kat, Elliot."_

Elliot's eyes flew up to Olivia's, shock plastered across his features.

"Elliot?" she asked with urgency.

" _Lara,"_ Fin continued. _"She's in and out with the sedating meds, but the PICU doc said she opened her eyes for a few moments this morning."_

"We'll be right there," Elliot returned, ending the call.

"Elliot?" Olivia repeated, trying to read him.

"It's Lara," he replied in disbelief. "She opened her eyes, Liv."


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter Note:_

 _Hello all... I've been on the fence about posting this one, but the more I've written beyond this, the more I've felt that the end point I'd anticipated getting to would make for a *ridiculously* long mega chapter (even for my standards...) and this part seemed to end at a natural pause (or dare I say "breaking point"... Ha! I'm so punny). At any rate, fear not, angsty EO lovers! We have more delving and confronting and healing ahead, but I can't skip this chapter to get us there faster. I have my reasons... Thank you in advance for your trust and your patience. I'm working hard on the next chapter, but I need to take my time to get it right. xoxo, Jessica_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

They'd made it to the hospital as quickly as possible, given the need to return to Elliot's apartment to pick up the car. Olivia kept vacillating between extremes of emotion - relief at the apparent change in Lara's medical status and dismay that she hadn't been there to provide support when she first awoke.

She looked up at the patchwork rooftop as Elliot pulled into the parking lot, the building's façade reminiscent of a storybook castle. It was a clear attempt to present a cheerful front for the children and families upon arrival; however, Olivia's heart ached for all of the children who necessitated treatment within those walls. She thought of all of the pain and trauma that Lara had endured in her short life. Up until this moment, Lara's medical condition and need for sedation had provided a blissful reprieve from reality - no awareness of her physical injuries nor the ability to reflect on her traumatic past. The ghosts had been silenced. Yet now, Olivia was overcome by a wave of grief as she anticipated the emotional torment that awaited Lara when she fully emerged into consciousness.

Elliot turned off the engine, taking a deep breath as he looked over his shoulder to see Olivia's pained expression as she stared at the building ahead. He shifted in his seat to pivot toward her, extending his arm and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't go there yet, Liv," he intuited.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, but her expression didn't change.

He lowered his hand to rest on her shoulder, offering her a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "She won't be alone in this."

"I know," she murmured.

"You won't be either, Liv."

A slight smile graced her lips at his words and she turned to face him. His hand lifted from her shoulder to cup her cheek in his palm, and she leaned into his touch with gratitude in her eyes. No matter what hardships they had weathered, Elliot was the one person in the world who understood what it was like to try to find the inner strength to present a calm, supportive front for the most vulnerable of victims, regardless of the myriad horrors they recounted. He was also the one person that had witnessed them first hand alongside her.

"That is the one thing I've never questioned in all of these years, Elliot. I hope you know that."

He nodded thoughtfully, but a trace of sadness fell across his eyes. "I haven't always been there, Liv. Not in all of the ways I should have been. But I hope you feel it now."

She answered him by leaning forward to brush her lips against his, pulling back to make eye contact as she trailed her fingertips along his brow.

It would be different now - for each of them. They wouldn't have to censor themselves to protect those in their midst. They wouldn't have to fabricate an explanation that would satisfy an inquiry into their day without mentioning the fact that they couldn't get the image of a child, a mattress, and a basement out of their heads. Elliot had spent the better part of his adult life responding to Kathy's questions with terse single word answers:

 _How was your day?_

 _Fine._

 _You want to talk about it?_

 _No._

Elliot felt something release inside of him at the realization that words were no longer necessary at all - as if he'd been keeping a part of himself locked away at all times and suddenly recognized that he no longer needed to expend the energy to do so.

Olivia saw the recognition in his eyes - the relief - and although he hadn't said a word, she immediately understood.

They rested their foreheads against one another's, taking a moment to collect themselves. Although neither of them acknowledged it, they were each not only preparing themselves for the anticipated encounter with Lara, but for the re-entry into the public eye that would necessitate the preservation of the physical distance between them once more.

Elliot sighed, halfway wanting to throw caution to the wind, but understanding that that was a step that they each had to be willing to take.

"You ready?" he asked.

She nodded against him.

"Okay," he breathed, reluctantly pulling away.

He opened the driver's side door, a rush of cold air invading the previously warm space. Olivia raked a hand through her hair before following suit, folding her arms over her chest in a futile attempt at obstructing the cold from permeating the fabric of her coat. Elliot joined her, shoving his hands in his pockets as they made their way toward the entrance.

When they reached the floor of the PICU, they didn't see a familiar nurse and opted to seek out the attending physician instead. As eager as they both were to check in on Lara, they were cognizant of the need to tread cautiously in the event that the doctor felt that visitation would do more harm than good. They lingered by the nurses' station and Olivia stared in the direction of the closed door, praying that they would be allowed to see her.

Only a short time passed before a female doctor with short brown hair and a kind smile approached them. "Detectives," she greeted them. "I'm Dr. Silverman. Perhaps we can speak in private for a moment?" She indicated a door a few paces down the hall.

"Of course," Elliot replied, gesturing for Olivia to walk before him as they followed her into a small conference room.

"Thank you for meeting with us," Olivia said as she lowered herself into one of the chairs.

Dr. Silverman nodded, her eyes quickly assessing the woman before her and making a mental inventory of the lingering evidence of the injuries Olivia had sustained in the days prior. "How are _you_ doing?" she asked without hesitation, her expression transforming into one of compassion and concern.

"Oh…I'm uh," Olivia stammered, unprepared for the question, "I'm fine." She shook her head dismissively. "It's nothing compared to what Lara endured."

Dr. Silverman's eyes darted from Olivia to observe Elliot who shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat, running a hand along his jaw. She pursed her lips, noting the dynamic and moving on for them. "We've been able to start weaning some of Lara's sedating medications. Most of them are being used for pain management, and they're significant - benzos and opioids, so we need to go really slowly to avoid withdrawal symptoms. So far, so good. Vitals have been stable, no signs of withdrawal, but we need to keep a close eye on her. If she begins to look agitated, we may opt to go back up on the dose of one or the other; taper things more slowly."

Olivia nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. I can't tell you how much we appreciate the care she's being given here."

"Absolutely," Dr. Silverman replied. "We recently removed her chest tubes, and breath sounds have been okay bilaterally. We want to monitor that closely as she is at risk of something called atelectasis, which is a collapsed lung. We also want to make sure that she remains afebrile, as a fever might indicate an underlying infection which, in her case, could quickly become life threatening."

She looked between the two of them as they processed the information, her focus lingering on Elliot who once again was replaying the final moments with Nikolai in his head. They'd been so close. A fraction of a second faster and he might have been able to prevent Nikolai from taking that shot.

"I know this wasn't the outcome that you'd hoped for that night," she continued, recognizing the regret and culpability in his eyes, "but I have to mention that I've seen her other injuries, and they are extensive." She paused, tapping an index finger against the table as she contemplated her words. "In almost thirty years of practicing medicine, I have never seen anything like her exam. The evidence of recent and previous traumatic injuries?" She shook her head. "If you hadn't gotten her out of there, I don't believe she would have lasted much longer given her degree of malnutrition and its deleterious impact upon her ability to ward off infection, let alone to heal."

Elliot's eyes narrowed, the tendon in his jaw flexing and his fists clenching reflexively beneath the table. He wanted a surviving target for his rage at what had been done to Lara. The monsters responsible for her hellacious existence deserved to rot in prison for the remaining decades of their lives. Instead, they'd been granted the easy way out. Painless, in his estimation. A merciful end to a lifetime of inflicting sadistic and incessant torment on an innocent child, while _she_ remained in a hospital bed fighting to survive. Where was the fucking justice in this for Lara?

Olivia glanced at him over her shoulder, his wrath palpable whereas she was struggling to breathe under an avalanche of remorse and despair. She closed her eyes to center herself, reopening them to focus on the doctor while she quietly extended her arm beneath the table to cover his fist with her palm.

She heard him exhale at the contact, though he made no other overt signs to draw attention to the action.

"Thank you," Olivia managed. "As you might imagine, we're…struggling with this one."

Dr. Silverman sat with them in silence for a moment, allowing Olivia her grief and Elliot his anger.

Eventually Olivia continued. "We were told by a fellow officer that she opened her eyes today. I guess we were hoping to know what to expect in terms of alertness, and whether or not you feel visitors would be helpful or harmful?"

"It's difficult to say," Dr. Silverman replied. "As her medications are weaned, it's likely she'll have more periods of wakefulness, but at this point, they're still fleeting. I won't prevent you from visiting, but my recommendation would be for short periods of time." She hesitated for a moment, before holding Elliot's gaze. "And I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but I do think it's worth mentioning that I'm not sure how she will react to a male presence. If she becomes agitated…"

Elliot preempted the warning with a quick shake of his head. "I'd leave. To be honest, it's been on my mind all morning."

She nodded. "I'm sorry to have to suggest it."

He smiled sadly in response. "It's okay. This is what we do."

"Anxious is one thing, agitated is another. I'll let you use your judgment, Detective." She shifted her gaze to Olivia once more, her hand silencing the cell phone that began to ring on her hip. "My apologies, but I'm needed for a consult," she explained, glancing at the screen to make a note of the missed call. "If you are looking to try to time your visits to coincide with wakeful moments, you may want to try shortly before her next dose of pain medication is due. That will likely be the time that the previous one is wearing off. We've shifted her to every six hours, unless she requires a PRN. The nurse will likely be able to guide you."

"Thank you," Olivia replied. "Would it be possible to add our cell phone numbers to the chart? In case there's any change?"

Dr. Silverman nodded. "Yes, just provide them to the charge nurse. And please don't hesitate to call if you need to reach me or have any more questions."

She slid one of her business cards across the table and Elliot took it, thanking her for her time.

They stood and made their way back into the hallway, Dr. Silverman heading off quickly through a set of double doors to their left. When they reapproached the nurses' station, Elliot suggested that Olivia go ahead to spend some time with Lara while he provided their contact information to the charge nurse and tried to seek more information regarding the schedule of Lara's medication administration. He joined her a few moments later, slipping quietly into the private room but continuing to linger near the door.

Olivia turned her head over her shoulder, searching his expression and offering him reassurance when she saw the hesitancy in his eyes. "It's okay, El. She's still sleeping."

He nodded, slowly closing the distance but opting to remain behind her, his hands coming to rest lightly upon her shoulders.

She leaned back in her chair, her head tipping against him - in part from fatigue, in part because she still felt as though she could somehow breathe more easily when she was closer to him.

Elliot looked down at her affectionately, his fingers curling around her more securely as she stifled a yawn. "Pain meds are due again at noon," he said softly.

"She looks peaceful right now," Olivia mused.

"Nurse thinks she should be out for another couple of hours or so." He looked over at the sleep couch by the window. "You want to try to catch a few?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't be able to get any good sleep anyway."

"You sure? I'd wake you if anything were to change."

"Yeah. You wanna go check on Kat?"

Elliot noted that even as Olivia spoke, her eyes drifted closed of their own volition. He smiled to himself, gently smoothing a palm along her forehead and upwards over her hairline, sweeping stray tendrils of hair back in the process. "I'll tell you what," he replied even more quietly. "Why don't you stay here with Lara while I go track down Fin?"

"You sure?" she murmured, her brow furrowing slightly but her eyes remaining closed.

"Yeah. I'll get a status report and come back and fill you in."

Olivia nodded against him, the action sufficiently purposeful enough to trigger her to reopen her eyes, her mind continuing to fight to stay awake. She took a deep breath and mustered up the energy to sit up fully again. "Okay," she said mid-exhale, taking hold of one of Lara's hands once more. "Thanks."

"You got it."

* * *

Elliot gradually navigated the labyrinth of hallways connecting the children's hospital to the main hospital, eventually texting Fin to ascertain what room Kat had been moved into on one of the upper floors.

He opened the door slowly, just far enough to pop his head inside, making eye contact with Fin who was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room. Elliot raised his eyebrows in a silent question and Fin nodded, waving him over with a brief gesture before letting his hand fall back to his side.

"She's still out," Fin said as Elliot entered.

Elliot turned his attention to Kat's immobile form, a pang of regret taking hold of him as he took in the sight of her pallid complexion.

"Doc say anything?" he asked.

Fin sighed, leaning back in his chair and resting his clasped hands on his chest. "Surgery went pretty well. Lost a lot of blood so they needed to transfuse."

"You donate?"

"Yeah, but I'm not the right type. She's good now though."

Elliot nodded.

"Still on oxygen, but they were able to get rid of the vent right away. Sats are good. Just needs time to heal." Fin fell silent again, flitting his gaze between Kat and the medical equipment in the room.

Elliot drew a hand along his jaw, not sure what to say to Fin that would adequately sum up the regret and admiration he had for the personal sacrifices that Kat had made for him and for Olivia. He didn't know the history between Fin and Kat during their time in Narcotics, but he could read Fin well enough to know that his concern ran deeply.

"Listen, I uh… I wanted to say that I'm sorry for-"

"Not your fault," Fin interrupted.

Elliot exhaled bitterly, folding his arms over his chest. "Been hearing that a lot lately."

Fin's eyes darted up to his, but Elliot's focus remained trained on Kat. His jaw was clenched and his eyes stormy. Fin studied him, knowing that he was likely putting the burden of responsibility on his shoulders for everything that had transpired - for both Kat and Olivia - throughout this ordeal. Fin had spent enough time with Olivia in the aftermath of the night at the club to have gleaned a clear picture of their undercover op - undoubtedly a clearer picture than Stabler would care to realize that he had. He also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that all of the impossible decisions made over the course of the past few days had been necessary ones.

"Maybe that's 'cause it's true," Fin replied evenly, waiting for Elliot to meet his eyes before continuing. "Besides, I'm the one that dragged Kat into this mess in the first place."

He looked back over at Kat, and this time Elliot was the one who felt the need to offer support.

"Kat doesn't strike me as someone who'd let anyone drag her into something she didn't want to be a part of." He smiled, remembering the dressing down she'd given him when he'd tried to prevent her from following him against Cragen's orders. "Or to let anyone stop her from jumping into anything she'd set her mind to, for that matter."

Fin caught sight of his smile and breathed a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I can't argue with you on that one."

"I can only imagine her as a rookie..."

"You don't know the half of it." Fin shook his head.

"Any word on Munch?"

"He's gonna be fine. Still at Maimonides, but sounds like they'll be discharging him today or tomorrow." He smirked to himself. "Probably today if the nurses have it their way."

"He's not that bad," Elliot replied with amusement in his expression.

"You kidding? He probably has them scurrying around fluffing pillows and ordering special meals."

"More likely driving them crazy with conspiracy theories."

"Yeah..." Fin trailed off again, the banter having been a welcome distraction, but nothing able to prevent the tension from taking over once more. He needed for Kat to wake up so that he could breathe again.

Elliot recognized the shift. Lord knows he had been battling similar extremes of emotion these days. "You need anything? Coffee?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Keep me posted? We'll likely be here for a while."

Fin nodded. "How's she holding up?"

"Exhausted," Elliot replied honestly. "But you know Liv. Can't get her to rest, what with the change in Lara and all."

"You look like shit too, Stabler."

Elliot chuckled. "Yeah, well, none of us will be winning any awards right now."

He headed toward the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder at Kat. He paused as he reached it, giving Fin one more word of encouragement.

"She's got this. She'll be back on her feet and giving us hell in no time."

"Can't wait," Fin replied.

Elliot left the room and wound his way back to the PICU, pausing to get two cups of coffee in the cafeteria before heading back upstairs. He balanced them in his left palm as he reached the door to Lara's room, using his right to turn the handle as he quietly made his way inside. His lips quirked as he took in the sight before him, gingerly closing the door behind him.

Olivia remained seated to the right of Lara's bed, but was sound asleep. She was slumped over the foot of the bed, her head resting on the crook of her left arm as she still held Lara's hand with her right.

Elliot tread silently across the room, setting down the cups of coffee on the side table and retrieving a thin blanket that had been folded at the foot of the sleep couch. He carefully returned to her side, draping the material over her shoulders as delicately as possible so as not to disturb her.

He returned to the opposite side of the room, initially sitting on the sleep couch for a few minutes before ultimately giving in to his own fatigue and stretching out onto his side.

* * *

Elliot wasn't sure how much time had passed when Olivia's voice pulled him back into consciousness.

"Elliot."

One word, but it immediately resonated somewhere in his weary mind. He propped himself up on his elbow, using his free hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Olivia locked eyes with him for a meaningful moment before returning her attention to Lara who had finally started to stir. She arched a bit, a slight grimace in her expression although she had yet to fully awaken.

Elliot pushed himself up to sit, but stayed where he was at the far side of the room, cognizant of the need to keep a low profile once she did awaken - if he would be able to remain in the room at all.

Olivia stroked the back of Lara's hand and forearm, her heart breaking at the thought that Lara might be in discomfort. Her next dose of pain medication wasn't due for another twenty minutes or so, although they still had the option to press the call button if it looked like she needed it sooner.

"Shhh," she soothed as Lara continued to shift in the bed.

A few more minutes passed before Lara's head moved again, her brow furrowing and her eyes slowly fluttering open.

Olivia's breath hitched, a myriad emotions flooding over her at once. She remained silent for a moment, giving Lara a chance to get her bearings. Eventually her green eyes met hers.

"Hi," Olivia said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. She was worried that any utterance on her part might frighten her. "My name is Olivia."

Lara's eyes continued to scan her face, searching her expression so intently that it looked as though she was peering through her.

Olivia tried to convey as much calm and reassurance as she could muster. "You're safe now."

Lara darted her eyes around the room, trepidation in her features.

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay. You're in the hospital." Olivia continued to stroke the back of her hand with her thumb. "You got hurt, so the doctors are helping to make you better."

Lara's eyes welled with tears, and Olivia's shone in response.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe. The bad men are gone."

Olivia transferred Lara's hand to her left, using her right to brush the hair back from Lara's forehead.

"You're safe now," she repeated, murmuring words of reassurance, glancing up periodically at the heart monitor that had shown an increase in heart rate, which was gradually normalizing once more.

Little by little, Lara became more relaxed in Olivia's presence. Her eyes stayed connected to hers as Olivia smiled in response.

"I'm right here with you. You're not alone anymore."

A few moments passed and Lara's focus shifted to scan Olivia's face once again, her gaze lingering on the bruises and the healing cut on her cheek. She stared at it for a long while in deep concentration. Her eyes returned to Olivia's with a wistful expression, continuing to periodically look back and forth between the injury and Olivia's eyes.

"It's okay," Olivia assured her. "All of the bad men are gone."

Elliot had remained motionless up until this point, watching the exchange from afar and barely daring to breathe in his efforts to prevent Lara from becoming aware of his presence. He could only hope that Lara would not remember him or his words from that night. His throat felt tight and he wished there was a way for him to leave the room without having to pass by her line of sight.

Olivia darted her eyes over in his direction, his anguished expression speaking volumes.

He shook his head at her, but she was already speaking to Lara once more.

"My friend Elliot is here with us," she began, praying that she had generated enough trust to be able to make this work.

Lara's brow furrowed, casting her eyes around the room but not able to see him yet from her vantage point.

"He's helping to keep you safe, just like me."

Olivia looked over at Elliot once more whose posture remained rigid, not moving a muscle for fear of startling Lara.

This time Lara followed her gaze, turning her head over her shoulder and finally catching sight of him in the periphery. Her hand tightened its grasp on Olivia's fingers, her breathing quickening.

Olivia immediately resumed her efforts to calm her, running her hand lightly along Lara's arm. She was frightened, but not yet past the point of no return.

"It's okay. He won't hurt us," she soothed, her tone incredibly gentle. "He's my friend," she repeated.

Olivia opted against identifying Elliot as having any connection with the police, given Lara's likely exposure to dirty cops who had invariably caused her harm rather than being a source of protection.

Elliot's eyes darted to the monitor, worrying about Lara's status. It had yet to alarm, but he was terrified that he would be the cause of significant distress.

"It's okay. You're safe," Olivia continued. "Elliot helped to stop the bad men."

Elliot swallowed. _"Just not quickly enough,"_ he thought. Lara's wide green eyes were boring into him, the fear in her expression ripping him apart. How long had she been tormented in that basement? How many men had forced themselves on top of her? He felt ill.

"Liv, I should go," he murmured, barely audible across the room.

Olivia shook her head almost imperceptibly. She was convinced that his proximity to Lara as he made his way to the door would be more triggering for her than the alternative.

He attempted to convey compassion in his expression, not wanting his internal tension to come across as threatening in any way.

Olivia continued the motion of her palm, trying to ground Lara in the safety of her presence by her caresses and her calm tone of voice. "He's been helping me to get better, just like the doctors are helping you."

Elliot heard the emotion pervading her tone, knowing that she was sharing a piece of herself with him, as much as she was trying to reassure Lara.

He offered her a small smile before returning his gaze to Lara.

"He won't hurt you."

Lara turned her head back to look at Olivia once more. Her grip was still tight on Olivia's hand, and Olivia gave her a small squeeze of reassurance.

"I'm here. You're safe now. Elliot will keep both of us safe."

Olivia stole another glance at the monitor, relieved to see that Lara's breathing and heart rate were slowing once more. She smiled down at her, lifting their joined hands and placing a kiss on the back of Lara's.

"You've been so brave," she said with a slight tremble in her voice. "No one is going to hurt you anymore."

Lara's hand moved between hers and Olivia released her grasp, surprised when Lara reached up to touch her fingers to Olivia's bruised cheek.

Olivia fought back tears but continued to smile down at her. "No one is going to hurt either one of us anymore," she clarified.

Lara's hand found hers again and Olivia lowered them back down to rest against the bed once more.

As the minutes stretched on, Lara cast another glance or two in Elliot's direction, but for the most part she continued to silently focus on Olivia. She seemed satisfied that Elliot was safely across the room, albeit a bit wary of his presence, and seemed comforted that Olivia remained close by.

Lara's physical discomfort appeared to ratchet up a notch as noon drew closer, but thankfully just as Olivia had been considering pushing the call button, a nurse entered the room to administer the next dose of her pain medication.

"There you go," Olivia told Lara as the nurse finished. "The medicine will make you feel better soon." The nurse smiled and exchanged a nod with both Olivia and Elliot before slipping back into the hall.

It didn't take long before Lara began to relax once more, her blinks growing slower and heavier as the medication began to take effect again. Lara shook her head slightly at times, as if trying to prevent herself from falling asleep, and Olivia tried to offer comfort.

"Shhh... It's okay. Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

She smoothed her hand over Lara's hair, stroking her forehead with the pad of her thumb as Lara's eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep once more.

Olivia inhaled deeply as if daring to do so for the first time since Lara had opened her eyes. She released the breath shakily, running her palms along her thighs as she held Elliot's gaze across the room. She stood to make her way to him and he met her halfway, enfolding her into an embrace. They didn't speak for a while, taking a moment to process the different emotions that they'd been holding at bay.

"You okay?" he managed after a few moments.

"Yeah. You?" she asked, still pressed closely against him.

He nodded.

He was relieved that Olivia had succeeded in her efforts to alleviate Lara's distress at his presence, but was unable to get the image of Lara's haunted expression out of his mind.

"I shouldn't have been here, Liv," he said as they pulled apart. "It's too much for her."

Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but he interrupted.

"You're what she needs right now."

"I can keep her calm, El."

"Yeah, I know. But you didn't see the look in her eyes, Liv. Whether or not she remembers anything from that night doesn't matter. What I represent..." he shook his head. "She'll be confronting those demons for the rest of her life. She doesn't need to do it now."

Olivia sighed, recognizing the truth of his words despite her wish to somehow create a space where Lara could see Elliot for the protector that he was. They'd been doing this for too long, and she knew that part of her motivation stemmed from her desire to lessen Elliot's feelings of culpability and regret for the role he'd had to adopt that night.

Elliot saw the conflict swirling in her eyes. He rested his hands on her shoulders, arching backward slightly to fully meet her gaze. "Hey...Benson."

"Yeah?"

One side of his mouth lifted into a smirk. "Stop worrying about me."

She arched a brow in challenge. "You first."

"Always gotta pick a fight..." he replied with mock frustration, letting his hands fall away.

Olivia rolled her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she pretended to shove him back with just the lightest pressure of her fingertips against his chest.

Elliot stepped back a pace in response, his eyes twinkling down at her.

She held his gaze for a moment in comfortable silence, her mind slowly cycling through the events of the morning. "How's Kat?" Olivia asked, belatedly realizing that she'd drifted off before Elliot could give her an update.

"She was still sleeping when I checked in, but Fin said things are moving in the right direction. I think she's going to be fine." He paused, looking over at Lara. She was sleeping peacefully, the medication having fully taken hold once more. "You feel up to wandering back over there with me for a minute?"

Olivia nodded. "Yeah, I'd like to. Maybe we can convince Fin to take a break for a bit."

Elliot smiled lightly, a knowing look in his eye. "Liv, if it were me - if you were lying there? There's no way in hell I'd leave."

"Doesn't mean we can't try," she said resolutely.

* * *

Elliot led the way to Kat's room, the journey now ingrained in his motor memory, which was fortunate given the fact that the hallways all tended to look the same. He was more cognizant than ever of the shift in his response to Olivia's proximity. He continually had to fight against the impulse to hold her hand or touch the small of her back as she walked alongside him. The backs of their hands occasionally brushed against one another's as they navigated the halls, and this only drew more attention to his awareness of the enforced distance that had once seemed so simple. Everything seemed amplified now - his protectiveness, his attunement. He suppressed a smile at the thought of how irritated Olivia would become with him if she knew just how intensely overprotective he felt at the moment.

"Next door on the left," he said as they drew closer.

He knocked lightly on the door before entering, making eye contact with Fin who nodded at them to continue their approach.

"We thought you could use some company," Olivia said quietly, moving to stand closer to him, her hands in her pockets.

"Don't let her fool you," Elliot interjected. "She has plans to kick you out of the room."

Fin smiled. "I'm good, Liv."

"Didn't say you weren't," she replied. "A guy's gotta eat though."

"I ate."

"When?"

He shook his head with an amused expression. "A while ago."

"You mean yesterday," she said flatly, continuing to stare him down.

Fin chuckled. "Don't try to interrogate me, Benson."

"So that's a 'yes' then," she said unflinchingly. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at Elliot. "That sounded like a 'yes', didn't it?"

Elliot smirked, folding his arms across his chest as he cocked his head to the side and looked back at Fin. "Yeah, that's what I heard."

Fin exhaled heavily.

Olivia held his gaze, her expression softening into one of concern. "Humor me? Take ten minutes - five even. Grab a bite downstairs. Get some air."

Elliot shrugged apologetically. "She's not going to let this go."

"Yeah, I know," Fin said begrudgingly. He stood, shaking his head again as he looked between the two of them. "Five minutes, Benson."

"Fine."

In keeping with the interrogation theme she'd created, he narrowed his eyes toward Olivia in faux intimidation, intentionally bumping his shoulder against hers as he passed by.

She pursed her lips to prevent the smile from fully forming, turning her head over her shoulder to catch his eye as he reached the door.

His expression remained deadpan, but he winked in response before exiting into the hall.

Elliot waited for the door to close before slowly closing the distance between them to stand slightly behind her, his arms still crossed over his chest. He released them only at the last minute, and only as a means to eliminate the additional physical distance between them. He leaned forward, his chest barely brushing against her back and his mouth hovering over her ear.

A tingle ran down her spine from his proximity, his breath warm against her skin.

"Just for the record," he murmured lowly, "that wouldn't have worked on me."

Her lips quirked, willing her voice to remain steady. "No?" She turned her head slightly further in his direction, causing his lips to brush against her ear. "You sure about that, Stabler?"

Despite her best efforts, Elliot heard the slight waver in her breathy response. He still made no overt move to touch her, but intentionally grazed his mouth against her as he murmured his reply. "You can't intimidate me, Benson."

Olivia's eyes drifted closed, allowing the sensation to wash over her before reopening them once more, determined to win this battle of wills. "I wouldn't have had to," she replied coyly, deliberately shifting back the few millimeters needed to brush the length of her body against his.

Elliot's response was immediate - backing up just far enough to slip his left hand between them, his fingertips pressing against her lower back to enforce the distance again.

She chuckled.

His right hand lifted to brush the hair back from her neck. "You're not playing by the rules."

"Just proving my point," she said softly, her voice trailing off as his lips skimmed along her skin.

"Someday we'll test that theory."

She shivered, collecting herself for a second before pivoting to face him. She kept space between them, but allowed herself to linger in the moment, not making any attempt to mask the heat in her gaze.

His eyes were dark and his focus descended to her lips, but he reined himself in and dragged his eyes back up to meet hers again.

It was the first time since Olivia's abduction that there had been any emotional space for longing or desire to break the surface, and both of them were suddenly aware of the intensity of those undercurrents. They had unconsciously been suppressing them out of necessity - eclipsed by their need to protect and soothe and heal. Their shared trauma remained, but the threat was gone. Lara and Kat were going to pull through. The adrenaline was slowly dissipating, leaving raw emotion in its wake.

Olivia felt a stab of anxiety at the magnitude of her need. It transcended anything that she'd felt before because it was Elliot. All of their history. Defenses eradicated. Everything laid bare. She was unable to drop her gaze, tethered to him by the strength of their bond, the awareness as clear in his eyes as that which she knew he could see in her own.

He cupped her cheek in his palm, dragging his thumb along her lower lip before shifting his hand behind her nape, drawing her to him and resting his lips against her forehead.

The rapid rise and fall of her chest had stilled, but almost too abruptly. "Breathe, Liv," he whispered.

She exhaled shakily, trying to remember how to do so. "I'm _trying_ ," she replied somewhat defensively.

Undeterred, he merely sifted his fingers more deeply into her hair as a means to hold onto her more securely. He smiled against her. "As long as one of us is, then."

She relaxed into his hold, his words immediately alleviating the tightness in her chest and putting her at ease.

They remained like that for another minute or two. As they gradually drew apart, his hand slid down her arm to take hold of hers, their fingers interlocking. They took a seat side by side on the sleep couch, anticipating Fin's return and leaving ample space between them, but their hands remained connected.

Olivia's voice ultimately broke the silence. "You never told me how the rest of your self-imposed house arrest went with Kat."

Elliot breathed a laugh. "I'm still standing." He raised their joined hands far enough to gesture in her direction. "That one's a pot-stirrer." His brow furrowed slightly in contemplation. "I didn't think I was that transparent."

Olivia smiled. "You aren't. She started chipping away at this from the moment she saw you at the precinct."

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her more fully. "'This' meaning _us,_ " he replied, gently but pointedly drawing her attention to the distinction.

She shifted somewhat self-consciously, a small smile still on her lips. "Yes, fine, _us,_ " she said hurriedly.

He saved her with a chuckle. "What did she say?"

Olivia tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It doesn't matter."

"I don't get to know?"

"She's not blind, Elliot," she said with a tinge of frustration. "She saw _you_ , figured out I'd been staying with you, and made some pointed comments connecting the dots."

"No, she's not blind…" he murmured knowingly.

Olivia shot him a questioning look, but he looked down at their hands in amusement.

" _I_ don't get to know?" she echoed softly, arching a brow.

He rubbed a hand along his jaw, his cheeks coloring slightly at the recollection. "She saw a beautiful woman and implied that I was a lost cause. I believe her words were that she had only just met you and wished she 'docked on the other side of the marina'."

Olivia stifled a snort with her palm. "She did _not_."

"Oh, yes she did…"

He caught her eye and her face lit up with a grin.

"I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that one…" she mused.

Elliot nodded.

"Did she eat all of my penne alla vodka?" she asked as an afterthought.

Elliot spoke through his smile. "I'll make you more."

They fell silent for a while, cycling through all of the events that had transpired in the terrifying hours that followed.

Elliot thought about all that Kat had undergone on behalf of two relative strangers. Despite the short time that they had been thrown together, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could trust her implicitly. He respected her. She was fearless in the field, fiercely protective of those in her midst, and willing to place everything on the line for a cause she believed in. Kat had seen the footage from the club - witnessed him at his absolute worst - and still somehow managed to believe him worthy of her trust.

 _Elliot, you did what you had to do._

"You were right, you know," Elliot said quietly.

Olivia stroked her thumb along his hand, noting the shift in his demeanor and waiting for him to continue.

"Kat is one of the good ones."

She nodded, allowing his statement to hang in the air.

Fin returned a few minutes later, their hands reflexively moving back to their sides as he opened the door. They stood as he approached, the three of them speaking in hushed tones as he began to fill them in on Munch who was reportedly ready for discharge and would be released from Maimonides later that afternoon.

"Want me to head down to Brooklyn?" Elliot asked.

"Nah, I should go. Partner thing," Fin shrugged.

"You sure? You could stay here with Kat. In case there's any change?"

Fin hesitated.

Elliot was about to respond when an unexpected voice met their ears.

"Who died?" Kat asked groggily, her voice scratchy from lack of use and dehydration.

All three heads whipped over their shoulders to face her.

"The only time I've heard people speak that softly is at a wake. And I'm not dead yet." She tried and failed to raise herself up on the bed. "At least I don't think so," she added with a grimace.

Olivia smiled, darting her eyes to study Fin whose expression had melted into one of pure relief. He was across the room in two strides, bending down to help use the controls on the hospital bed to raise the upper portion into a more comfortable position, stopping when Kat held up her palm.

"You trying to give all of us a heart attack?" Fin asked. "Maybe you missed the part of training where they told you not to get shot." He was doing his best to sound irked, but he was unable to hide the cheerfulness in his tone.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," she rasped.

She shifted her gaze to Olivia, a smile gracing her features as she glanced briefly at Elliot and back again. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"I could say the same about you," Olivia replied.

"This guy was a _mess_ without you," Kat said inclining her head in Elliot's direction.

"Uh…" Elliot cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably between the people in the room. " _Kat_ ," he gritted.

"No more so than Fin was while you were out," Olivia interjected, saving one man by throwing another one onto the fire.

"The _hell_?" Fin protested, immediately up in arms.

Kat's eyes flashed with a hint of the mischievous sparkle they'd all come to associate with her, albeit a bit more subdued as she censored whatever her next words had intended to be in attempts not to move.

Olivia recognized it immediately and her tone shifted into one of concern. "Want me to track down your nurse? You might be due for some more pain meds."

Kat shook her head. "I don't like feeling fuzzy."

"You sure?" Fin said.

"It's not a paper cut, Bailey," Elliot replied, unable to prevent the worry from permeating his tone.

"Geez," Kat complained. "It's not nice to tag-team the infirm."

Every word she spoke sounded effortful, beads of sweat visibly dotting her forehead, and Fin wasn't having it anymore. He pressed the call button for the nurse, ignoring Kat's glare. "When you can get out of that bed and kick my ass, we'll talk."

She shot daggers in his direction, but ultimately relented once the nurse was at her side. A physician entered shortly thereafter, and the rest of the detectives waited out in the hallway so that he could complete his exam.

"I'll head to Brooklyn, Fin," Elliot said, resuming their prior conversation. "Liv is going to want to head back to Lara in the next couple of hours, and you can spend time with Kat."

"You sure?" Fin asked, looking between him and Olivia. As much as he wanted to keep a close eye on Kat, he knew that Stabler must feel the same way about Olivia.

"I've got this," Elliot assured him. "Liv and I already agreed that it's best for me to keep some distance from Lara. We're good, okay?" He thought back to his prior conversation with Fin about Munch's ability to drive people to the brink of insanity, and one side of his mouth curled into a wry smile. "Besides, it wouldn't go well for anyone if you strangled Munch on his way home from the hospital."

Fin mulled it over, his expression mirroring Stabler's. "Tons of paperwork to complete," he acknowledged.

Olivia shook her head. "Alright you two. Give the poor guy a break. What he went through…" she trailed off. She hadn't intended to go there, but now it was too late, and she saw the attack play out in front of her eyes once more. She swallowed. "It was bad…and it was my fault."

"Liv-" Elliot protested.

"If I hadn't insisted on going to Anya. If I hadn't left the precinct…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "All of this might have been prevented."

This time Fin stepped in, his voice firm. "Liv, there is no way in hell this would have gone down in a good way. Ever. Not with dirty cops on the inside. Not with Anya as bait. Whether you'd stayed or not, the shit would have hit the fan. Petrov knew where you were. He would have found a way. Period."

Olivia sighed, raking her fingers through her hair and staring at the ground between them.

"Way I see it," Fin continued, "this was a win. We're all standing and they're on ice. So stop blaming yourself." He looked up sharply at Elliot. "That goes for you, too, Stabler. Kat doesn't blame you anymore than Liv."

Olivia looked up at him once more.

"You gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

"Of course not," she gritted.

"Munch has been a cop for a hundred years. If he had a problem following your lead that day, he could have stood his ground. That's on him."

Olivia felt a smile tug on her lips despite herself. "Munch isn't that old…"

"Fine, but he doesn't have a problem telling _me_ where to shove it, so I rest my case."

The doctor emerged from the room, acknowledging them briefly before continuing down the hall.

Elliot exchanged a look with Olivia, who nodded at him in response.

He let out the breath he was holding, continuing to look at her while addressing both of them. "Okay, I'm going to head to Maimonides. If anything comes up…"

" _If you need anything,"_ came the silent communication.

"I have my cell phone."

"Yeah," Olivia replied, offering him a tired smile.

"Thanks, man," Fin added. "I owe you one."

Elliot shook his head, casting one last glance in Olivia's direction before heading through the double doors at the end of the hall.

Olivia and Fin stepped aside as the nurse also exited Kat's room. She looked at Olivia with a smile. "She's asking for you."

Olivia's eyebrows raised as she looked back at Fin, unsure as to why Kat would be asking for her alone.

Fin shrugged. "Girl talk?"

"Want to grab us some coffee?"

"You got it," he nodded, heading off in the direction of the cafeteria as Olivia slipped into the room.

"Hey," Olivia said as she closed the door behind her.

Kat smiled, gesturing for her to sit.

"Did they give you anything good?" Olivia asked, lowering herself into a chair.

"Ironically enough, some narcotics," Kat replied wryly.

Olivia chuckled.

"Anyway, how are _you_?" Kat asked.

Olivia shrugged off the question. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You know how I am." She made a sweeping gesture at herself, the hospital gown, the medical equipment, and the room.

Olivia sighed, a wave of emotion suddenly crashing over her without warning. "I'm so sorry, Kat."

"Oh no," Kat said firmly. "Don't you start with that. I'm the one who signed up for this gig. In case you didn't know, this kind of thing sort of comes with the territory."

"All the same, this case…"

"This case was a clusterfuck and a half. I get it, believe me."

Olivia closed her eyes, remembering the laptop and the footage from the club that she knew Kat had seen first hand. She exhaled shakily, meeting Kat's eyes once more. "Kat, the uh… the laptop," she began.

Kat shook her head, but Olivia didn't give her the chance to interrupt.

"I just wanted to say 'thank you', for one, for taking it out of the house. But also, I just wanted to try to explain…to tell you…" She struggled to find the words. "What you saw…"

"Olivia?" Kat said gently.

"Yeah?" she sighed.

"You don't have to explain any of that to me. I saw enough to know what you went through… what _both_ of you went through that night. I can't even imagine what this past week has been like for you."

Olivia swallowed against the lump in her throat, her silence allowing Kat to keep speaking.

"I'm not going to try to pretend that I can understand all of the layers of hell that you're wading through right now, but I do know a thing or two about undercovers gone wrong."

"I was going to ask," Olivia replied. "One of those was with Fin?" she intuited.

Kat's expression darkened momentarily, although she tried to play it off. "Yeah…that was one of the bad ones," she tried to force a smile, but it fell flat.

"You don't have to tell me," Olivia added.

"It's okay." Kat paused for a moment, trying to figure out where to begin. "Long story short, I was a rookie. You know, in over my head, but thinking I knew it all?"

Olivia nodded.

"It worked out well for the cover. They needed someone who could pass as a teen. A runaway and junkie."

"You fit the part."

"In spades. Probably could have passed for sixteen, back in the day. At any rate, it meant being out on the streets for weeks, trying to get closer to the big bad - a dealer who would use us to sell his product because we could fly under the radar. Fin was in already. He facilitated my introduction."

"He 'found you' on the streets."

"Exactly. But they wouldn't trust someone like Fin to do the drug runs. Young girls were more easily controlled…less likely to screw the boss over." She shook her head in disgust. "Anyway, I got cocky. I didn't realize that he'd grown suspicious of me. Neither did Fin until it was too late. The uh…" she hesitated. "The test was to see if I'd use. We didn't have a chance to have the stuff ready to fake it. I was roughed up pretty badly, kept trying to refuse, but the guy whipped out a gun and before I knew it, Fin was restraining me while the perp injected me." She held Olivia's gaze. "After that, it's all a blur. Fin stayed close...I was 'his' from that point on for outward appearances, if you know what I mean. Nothing like what you and Elliot went through," she amended hastily.

Olivia shook her head to dismiss Kat's concern.

"Our team brought the bastard down several days later. I should have been relieved, but I was angry and detoxing. Fin came to see me…to apologize. I saw the regret in his eyes - the guilt - but at that point, I didn't care. I told him I'd never forgive him for what he'd done. I said things to him…awful things…things that…" she trailed off.

Olivia saw the darkness cloud her features again.

"Anyway," she cleared her throat, "I know now that he saved my life that night and all the nights that followed. But back then I was too angry to acknowledge it and too proud and too stubborn to try to make things right…to apologize for the things I'd said. A few months later Fin put in the transfer to Special Victims. Over the years we bumped into each other a few times - you know, at the occasional hangout, or police function. We gradually got the banter back, but everything else was always there. So much stuff left unsaid."

"You weren't ready," Olivia said simply, without a trace of judgment.

Kat nodded. "But then this case happened. Seeing how much you guys were hurting, and seeing it from the other side…Elliot's side. The self-hatred and blame? I just didn't want to check out without letting Fin know I was sorry. That I understood."

"Elliot passed along your message," Olivia assured her. "He knew you wouldn't have asked it of him if it weren't significant to you."

Kat smiled self-deprecatingly. "Unfortunately I pulled through, so I guess I'm not off the hook after all."

Olivia returned her smile. "There are worse fates. Plus Fin's had a hell of a lot of time to sit with it now."

"Olivia, when we got to that house and Elliot realized you weren't there… Thinking that he failed you? Lost you for good? I uh… I've never seen anything like it. Don't want to see it ever again."

The urgency in Kat's expression only underscored the icy feeling in the pit of Olivia's stomach when she thought about all of the catastrophic ways the final moments could have prospectively played themselves out.

"Olivia, I'm sorry. I honestly didn't ask you in here to talk about the case," Kat said, recognizing the far off look in Olivia's eyes and trying to reach her.

Olivia rubbed a palm along her forehead, meeting Kat's gaze once more. "So what did you want to talk about?" she asked, trying to cling to the present.

The sparkle was back in Kat's eyes, along with a slowly spreading mischievous grin.

"I wanted ask you how things were going with that devastatingly handsome _partner_ of yours…"

Olivia breathed a laugh. "You never stop, do you?"

"Nope," Kat replied decisively. "So _spill_. Humor me in my time of need."

At that moment, two knocks resounded from opposite the door.

"Come in!" Olivia called, a bit too eagerly. She looked back down at Kat with a hint of relief as Fin made his way inside. "Saved by the door," she mumbled under her breath.

"Hmnph," Kat grumbled.

"You two have some catching up to do anyway," Olivia murmured, shooting Kat a meaningful look.

"Yeah," Kat sighed.

Olivia prepared to stand, but Kat stilled her movements with a light grasp on her hand.

"Just tell me that he got the girl," she whispered with a smile. "The reckless hero _always_ gets the girl in the end."

She punctuated her statement with a wink, and Olivia laughed in earnest.

"What's so funny?" Fin asked from across the room.

"Nothing," they said in unison.

"Girl talk," he muttered disapprovingly, approaching to hand Olivia her cup of coffee and placing a bottle of water down on Kat's bedside table.

He turned away, heading back toward the couch at the far side of the room.

"Olivia…" Kat nagged, pleading with her to answer her question.

Olivia smiled at the absurdity of the request, feeling as though she was somehow caught in a time warp, gossiping about boys in a grade school bathroom. Nevertheless, she found herself bending down to align her mouth near Kat's ear as she whispered, "He got the girl."

Olivia stood, pointedly ignoring Kat's Cheshire cat grin and saying quick goodbyes to both of them. She was halfway through the door to freedom when Kat's voice rang out loud and clear.

"It's about damn time."


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter Note:_

 _Hi all... I'm trying to keep the updates coming somewhat regularly. Our favorite detectives are trying to figure out the "new normal" in the aftermath of the case, and pieces of their experience keep asserting themselves into their awareness and emotions in complicated ways. This chapter is another attempt to continue their healing process and the following chapter will delve even more deeply into some of these things (working on it...but it's a doozy...)_

 _Songs I listened to while writing this chapter were "Dust" and "Breathe" by Haelos (for mood, not for lyrics)._

* * *

 **Ch** **a** **pt** **e** **r** **Twenty-Two**

When Elliot returned to the PICU, it was already close to 7:00pm. The red tape of the discharge process to get Munch released from Maimonides and the traffic in and out of the city boroughs had taken longer than anticipated. He was glad that he'd gone to help, but more eager than ever to get back to Olivia. He hadn't missed any calls from her while he was away, and he hoped that this meant that her most recent interaction with Lara had gone as smoothly as the first. Lara's pain medications had been due to be administered again at 6:00pm, so he believed that she had likely fallen asleep by now, but he was still cautious as he opened the door to her room.

He smiled as he entered, the scene not unlike the one that had met him earlier in the afternoon. The television in the room was displaying cartoons, but the volume was on one of the lowest settings. Olivia was fast asleep once more, but this time was stretched out on the bed with Lara who had curled herself into her side, sleeping equally soundly.

Elliot had stopped to pick up some take-out on the way back, certain that Olivia had subsisted solely on coffee, as he had, since their early morning breakfast. Unfortunately, there was no way to effectively silence the rustling plastic as he set the bag down and Olivia began to stir.

She stretched, looking over her shoulder to find him shrugging out of his jacket.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay." She rolled further onto her back, scrubbing her palms over her face. "I can't seem to keep my eyes open today."

He draped his jacket over the arm of the couch, lowering himself to sit and pinching the bridge of his nose against his own fatigue. "I'm right there with you, Liv. I've just kept moving, is all."

She delicately extricated herself from Lara's light grasp, quietly slipping out of the bed and taking a moment to replace herself with a soft teddy bear that one of the nurses must have brought up from the gift shop downstairs. She drew up the blanket more securely around Lara before crossing the room to join Elliot, taking a seat to his left and running her palm along his forearm.

"El, you've barely slept at all in the past two days."

"I'll catch up tonight," he reassured her.

"You probably shouldn't have driven all of that way."

He shook his head, easing himself back into a more reclined position. "I was fine. Just wanted to get Munch settled and get back here." He tilted his head back against the top of the couch, his hand coming to rest on her knee and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"How is he?" she asked somewhat hesitantly.

He turned his head to look at her, his grasp strengthening once more as a means to emphasize his words. "He's okay, Liv. Really. Give him a couple of days and he'll be back to his old self."

She blew out a puff of air, willing herself to look on the bright side.

"You hungry?" he asked. "I got us some take-out."

"Yeah."

He made a motion to begin to sit up more fully again, but she stilled him by pressing her palm to his chest, coaxing him to stay put. "You, relax," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Olivia pulled over a rolling side table, sifting through the contents of the bag and taking out the two entrees - one chicken marsala and one penne alla vodka. She offered him a light smile and he shrugged.

"Until I can make you more."

She leaned over and cupped his cheek in her palm, trailing her fingertips lightly along his temple. "You get points for that one, Stabler."

"I do, huh?" His eyes flashed with satisfaction and a hint of mischief.

She straightened, taking hold of his hand and tugging lightly with the intention of easing him into a more upright position, when he suddenly turned the tables and surprised her by wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging downward, the momentum catching her off guard and her chest falling against his.

Olivia's lips hovered above his, her eyes slightly widened as she processed the sudden shift. She knew she should try to put some distance back between them, but had absolutely no desire to do so, and lingered in the moment.

He was returning her startled gaze with a smug smile on his face, his thumb brushing along the inside of her wrist. Her shallow exhales were warming his skin, and he felt the quick rise and fall of her chest above his.

"How many points, Liv?" he breathed, his hands lazily running upward along her arms and over her shoulders until his fingers started to weave into her hair.

Her eyes drifted closed as he lightly raked his nails over her scalp, reopening to meet his heated stare.

"A couple," she managed.

He raised his head just far enough to brush his lips against hers. She exhaled shakily, her lips parting and their breaths intermingling. He repeated the motion, their mouths open and lips barely grazing one another's, and his hands continuing to sift gently through her hair.

His eyes held hers and it registered for her then. He may have led them down this path, but he was relinquishing control, holding back and giving her the freedom to take over.

She allowed herself to sink into him fully, her mouth closing over his and her tongue seeking entrance, a rush of adrenaline flooding through her as he let out a ragged breath in response. She could feel the tension in his muscles, his attempts to prevent his hands from tangling more tightly in her hair. One of her hands was braced against his thigh, holding herself up due to the way she'd fallen into him, and she felt him slip his hand from her hair to wrap his arm around her, supporting her upper body so that she wouldn't have to. Now free to explore, her palms smoothed over the planes of his chest, her left flattening against him as her right lifted to run along his cheek, her fingers eventually wrapping around the back of his head to hold him more closely to her. She lost herself in the sensation of it all, their physical connection an outpouring of their emotional one. The kiss was a seemingly incongruous mixture of passion and restraint - the pace slow, but the depth of their bond overwhelming in its intensity.

It was the awareness of how closely they were dancing to the precipice that ultimately led Olivia to pull back. Her entire body was tingling and she was struggling to catch her breath. Their eyes were locked onto one another and she wasn't sure whether she was shaking or whether he was - impossible to decipher with the way her torso was draped over his.

Elliot swept his eyes over her, unable to coherently process everything that he was feeling in that moment. He trailed his fingers delicately along her hairline, over her cheek, his thumb brushing along her lips as he resisted the impulse to close his mouth over hers once more. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark, and he thought he'd never seen anyone so beautiful. Except that he had - seen her - day after day for over a decade without having been able to touch her.

Olivia found herself in what was becoming an increasingly familiar state of anxiety coupled with need, the awareness of her vulnerability an ever-present current flowing just beneath the surface.

Elliot saw the traces of fear in her eyes and was steeling himself for the moment that Olivia would retreat behind the self-protective barriers that would put enough emotional distance between them to permit her to regain some semblance of control. He wished he could figure out a way to convey to her that he had the same fears, the same insecurities, to the same paralyzing degree. "Olivia…" he choked out, trying to find the words, desperate to prevent her from pulling away.

And then she surprised him completely by relaxing against him, tucking her chin over his shoulder and trying to enfold him into a stronger embrace.

He released a shuddering breath, relief flooding over him and his arms tightening around her.

Her cheek was pressed against his neck, her eyes closed, and without her sight to distract her, she was suddenly aware that Elliot's response signified that he was just as overcome by the magnitude of their connection as she was - and just as petrified to lose it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Stabler," she soothed.

One of his arms shifted, his forearm resting between her shoulder blades and his fingers stroking the soft strands of hair at the nape of her neck. "Isn't that usually my line?"

Olivia heard the slight waver in his tone. "You tell yourself you're not leaving?" she quipped, trying to put him at ease.

He breathed a laugh, using his stomach muscles to sit upright and carrying Olivia along with him. She propped herself up with an arm on either side of him and he gradually relaxed his hold, her head lifting from his shoulder and meeting his gaze.

He looked back and forth between her eyes, one of his hands combing through her hair and coming to rest against the back of her head. "You're stuck with me and I'm stuck with myself," he said wryly, the corners of his mouth still upturned.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

She reluctantly straightened the rest of the way, once again sitting to his left and rolling the side table over more to permit both of them to share it. They ate in comfortable silence, the food lukewarm but not half bad, especially given their degree of hunger. When they finished, Olivia took care of disposing of the containers and returning the table to its previous spot along the wall. When she returned to the couch he draped an arm around her, pulling her more closely into his side as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"So what do you think?" Elliot asked. "You want to see if she wakes up again around the midnight dose?"

Olivia nodded. "Yeah, if that's okay?"

"Of course."

He ran his hand along her arm.

She was quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought.

"Elliot, I was thinking..."

"Yeah?"

"Could we maybe go to my place when she falls back asleep?" Her voice was hesitant and somewhat guarded. "I could use a change of clothes and should probably check on things."

"Of course, Liv," Elliot replied after a pause, trying to decipher her tone.

Olivia hadn't returned to her apartment since Petrov's switchblade had been stabbed into her door, the memories of that terrifying day still clear in her mind. In all honesty, she had no desire to return to her place at all at the present moment, but her need for additional clothing and personal effects was not giving her a choice in the matter. Adding to her discomfort was the small matter of the newness of the development of her personal relationship with Elliot, and the fact that she had no idea what this was supposed to mean for them in terms of sleeping arrangements, let alone living arrangements, now that they were out of danger.

In the aftermath of so much trauma, the concept of spending time apart from him seemed unfathomable - the mere thought of it causing a constricting feeling in her chest that made it difficult to breathe. She didn't know what to do with the level of dependence that had taken hold of her since their night at the club. All that they had endured that night had led to a confusing blur of extremes of emotions. Their physical intimacy - if she could call it that given the terrifying and violent way it had come to pass - had been both real and not real. They had been trying to survive. Yet the boundaries crossed had simultaneously opened the floodgates to years of suppressed feelings. Elliot had acknowledged that conflict as much as she had - that their acceptance of the roles they'd had to adopt hadn't changed the fact that it hadn't felt like role-play that night. It had been impossible to stay detached. Their entire history - all of their years of partnership - had been in that room, permeating all aspects of the events that had unfolded. It had been protective - a means to cling to a feeling of trust and safety and connection while all else was falling apart.

In the days that followed, had it not been for the actions of Petrov and their resultant mandatory cohabitation, they might have retreated back to the boundaries that had defined their relationship for a decade. Separate apartments. Separate lives. While she was infinitely grateful that circumstances had led them down this different road, it had technically only been 72 hours since Elliot had spoken to her about reciprocating her feelings. Three days…and hardly any time to process what that meant given the chaos that had unfolded soon afterward.

Tonight marked the first night since they caught the case that their decision-making would be based solely upon their own wishes. The night prior, Olivia had felt a touch of this uncertainty, but it had ultimately been eclipsed by her fragility and need for reassurance that Elliot was still alive; that Petrov hadn't won; that the nightmare was over. Tonight, however, there were no more excuses to hide behind.

"You haven't been home in a while," Elliot continued as a means to break the prolonged silence, pulling her back from her thoughts.

 _Home_.

The tightness in her throat was back. Her place didn't feel like home.

She remained quiet beside him, and without being able to see her expression, Elliot was trying to interpret her silence based upon body language alone. She hadn't pulled away from him but her breathing had changed and he felt a tension that hadn't been there a moment ago.

He hesitated, idly stroking her arm, unsure of the right thing to say. "You want to stay there tonight?"

Her breathing stopped.

Shit. Clearly he'd said the wrong thing. "If you'd rather we head over to my place after, that's fine too."

 _We._

She started breathing again.

His brow furrowed. "Talk to me, Liv."

She swallowed, not wanting to admit that her stomach had plummeted when she thought he'd been suggesting splitting up for the night.

"Either is fine, El," she managed.

He exhaled slowly, considering her response. He couldn't read her like this. He needed to look her in the eye.

As soon as he pivoted in his seat, every muscle in her body tensed. She knew his intention and didn't feel adequately prepared to face him. His hand grasped her chin but she stared at his chest, trying to eke out a few more moments to collect herself.

"No," he murmured lowly, his eyes narrowing immediately in recognition. He knew her too well. "Don't do that. Look at me."

She sighed, darting her eyes up to look at him and then glancing away.

"If you don't tell me what this is, Liv, I can't fix it," he said gently.

Olivia wished that she could absorb some of his apparent calm. Her heart was racing as quickly as her mind. "I don't know what to say, Elliot."

"Try me."

"I just…I told you earlier that I don't know how this works." She rubbed the back of her palm along her forehead. "And I _don't_." She paused, finally mustering up the courage to hold his gaze. "How does this work, Elliot?"

A gentle smile graced his features, his tension dissipating now that he could better understand where hers was originating. "I think we figure that out together."

"How?" she pressed him.

He shrugged. "I guess by doing what feels right."

"How are you this calm?" she asked with frustration, her defenses kicking in.

He let his hand fall to her shoulder, framing her neck between his thumb and forefinger. "Liv, you know I've had my moments of panic here, but the only thing that scares me right now is the thought of you shutting down on me." He studied her, trying to figure out exactly what she was asking. "What is it, Liv? What do you need to know?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her frustration mounting. "The case is over."

"Yeah," he replied with a question in his tone, not following her train of thought.

"El, in one week we went from barely setting foot in the other person's home to staying together every night."

He nodded slowly, trepidation creeping in. "And…you don't want to?"

She sighed in exasperation. "That's not what I'm saying."

"So you _do_ want to."

"Elliot," she gritted.

"Liv, help me out here…"

She made an incredulous gesture with her hands, her eyebrows raised. "So, you'd be fine with that? Just like that." She'd asked the question, but her tone read more like a statement.

"Just like what?"

"Three days in and you're fine with that."

He smirked. "Ten years and three days, Liv."

She flushed.

He backtracked a bit, knowing that he was pushing her dangerously beyond her comfort zone. "Liv, I know what _I_ want. What I care about is what you want. If you need time or space - anything - it's yours."

She was no longer trying to avoid his gaze, but he recognized the apprehension in her expression so he continued.

"But if you're looking for me to tell you that I need either of those things? I don't," he said simply.

He watched her consider his words, her focus drifting slightly to the vicinity of his shoulder. He thought back to her nonverbal response to his earlier questions and awareness dawned as he finally surmised her previous train of thought.

"You thought I did," he said softly, brushing his thumb along her collarbone.

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head lightly as if to dismiss the statement, even though he knew it to be true.

"Do you want space from me?" he asked earnestly.

"No," she murmured.

Elliot inhaled deeply, understanding her internal conflict even when it was now clear that they were both on the same page. It was somewhat akin to a feeling of free fall without a safety net - even though they were, ostensibly, each other's safety net.

"Liv, there's no road map here. Not for us. If you're asking me what feels right for me? It doesn't matter if we go to your place, my place, or any other place. I just want to be with you." He cleared his throat, his free hand finding hers. When he spoke again, his voice was even more gentle. "And if you feel this thing as strongly as I do…then maybe we've figured out as much as we need to know right now."

She looked up at him once more, finding strength in his honesty and feeling the need to give of herself in return. "Elliot…this thing between us… It terrifies me," she finished, her voice almost inaudible.

He nodded.

She swallowed, unexpectedly finding herself on the verge of tears, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "I'm afraid to fall."

He drew her to him and she met him halfway, enveloping one another in a gentle embrace. He leaned back, coaxing her head onto his shoulder, her legs folded to the side.

"We've already fallen, Liv," he spoke into the crown of her head, his hand weaving into her hair, "but I've got you and I won't let go."

* * *

Succumbing to exhaustion, they had drifted off to sleep in that position. They were so deeply asleep that they had barely moved in hours. Elliot was the first to begin to stir, his hand absently stroking Olivia's hair, his palm still cradling her head against his chest. His eyes slowly fluttered open, looking down to see Olivia who was still sleeping soundly, her lips slightly parted and her fingers curled inward around the fabric of his shirt. He smiled down at her, his other hand running lightly along her arm. He didn't want her to awaken, but he couldn't resist caressing her, overcome by how peaceful he felt at having her in his arms.

He glanced up at the clock trying to make out the hour, and it was then that he became aware of the set of green eyes that were quietly watching him from across the room.

He froze, momentarily caught off guard and wondering what Lara's response would be to him now that he was awake. He looked over at the monitor, noting that for the time being her heart rate was slow and steady.

His eyes drifted back to hers once more, wondering if he should wake up Olivia. He remained quiet for a moment, ultimately deciding to let her sleep for a little while longer as he attempted to figure out how to respond to Lara.

She continued to silently observe him, her arm still curled around the teddy bear Olivia had tucked into her side.

He offered her a smile, addressing her with a hushed tone. "Hi," he ventured.

When she didn't appear startled by his voice, he continued.

"I'm sorry we fell asleep."

He watched as Lara's focus shifted to Olivia, slowly casting her gaze over Elliot's hand cradling her head, the motion of his fingers stroking her arm, and back up to him, a curious expression on her face. He wondered if she'd ever been in the presence of a man who had demonstrated any tenderness toward a woman or child.

"Would you like me to wake Olivia up? Or should we let her sleep a bit more?"

She looked back down at Olivia, her brow furrowing a bit in concentration.

"She's alright," he reassured her, his thumb brushing lightly across Olivia's cheek. "I promise. Just sleepy like you were."

Her eyes met his again and he was struck by the feeling that he was being sized up more intently than he'd ever been by Cragen or IAB.

He looked at her reassuringly, a trace of sadness in his eyes. "I don't want you to be afraid. Do you want me to leave?"

She continued to regard him closely, but didn't show an indication one way or another of whether he should leave or stay.

"You're the boss," he said. "I won't get mad. If you want me to go, you just nod your head, and I'll go. Promise."

Lara looked back and forth between him and Olivia, continuing to absorb the scene before her. It felt like hours before she looked him straight in the eye and shook her head 'no'.

Elliot felt a surge of emotion, her response unexpected in light of all that she had endured. He was visibly struggling to contain himself when he replied, "Okay. Thanks."

They fell back into silence for a while, his hand beginning to sift through Olivia's hair in a more purposeful way, trying to ease her back into consciousness. He knew that she would want to spend more time with Lara, regardless of her fatigue. She hadn't stirred yet, and he paused, suddenly feeling the urge to apologize to Lara while he had her attention for himself.

"I'm so sorry you got hurt." Regret flitted across his features. "You're safe now."

He resumed the motion of his hand and a few moments later Olivia arched into a stretch, groggily pushing herself up to sit.

"Look who's up," he murmured, gesturing in Lara's direction.

Olivia's face immediately lit up with a smile, giving Elliot's arm a squeeze of acknowledgement before crossing the room and kneeling before Lara at the side of the bed, her hand smoothing over her hair.

"She wanted to let you sleep," Elliot explained.

Olivia looked at him over her shoulder, her smile broadening as she turned her attention back to Lara. "You did? You are _so_ thoughtful…but I'm glad I woke up because I'm so happy to see you."

Lara's hand lifted to touch the silky strands of Olivia's hair, seemingly mesmerized by every last detail about her.

Elliot cautiously moved to stand. "I am going to let you ladies have a nice visit together." He slowly made his way across the room, being careful to cling to the wall so as not to make Lara afraid. "You'll let me know if you need anything?" he asked as he reached the door.

Olivia nodded back at him, and he slipped out into the hall.

Assuming Kat would be sleeping given the late hour, Elliot opted against an attempt at a visit and instead took a seat in one of the waiting areas in an alcove down the hall. It was probably better this way, as his mind was cycling through his encounter with Lara and he needed time to process it. He was grateful to have had an opportunity at an interaction where he was able to offer her kindness and reassurance as opposed to the abhorrent things that had come out of his mouth in that basement. He remembered Lara's vacant stare that night, and prayed that it meant that she had been in a dissociative state for the bulk of that encounter - seeking refuge in the farthest recesses of her mind to prevent herself from experiencing her hellacious existence in the present. He couldn't bear the thought of her remembering him in that capacity - not just for the cruel things he'd said, but for his abusive treatment of Olivia when she'd purposefully instigated an argument to buy them time. He leaned forward with his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes until the dots in his vision obscured the memories running rampant in his mind.

* * *

Olivia had texted him the moment that Lara had fallen back asleep, letting him know that all was clear for him to return. He was feeling marginally better in control of his emotions by the time he reached her; however, Olivia's discerning eyes immediately picked up on the melancholy in his expression.

Elliot offered her an attempt at a smile, looking away from her and down at Lara's sleeping form. He had thought that avoiding Olivia's gaze would better help him remain in control, but quickly realized his mistake, as the sight of Lara immediately brought about a deluge of images and recollections from that night. He saw her lying in the basement; saw the bruises that riddled her tiny frame. He remembered the agonizing moment when Lara had transformed into Lizzie in his tortured mind. He felt as though a knife was slicing through him once more, Nikolai's voice echoing in his ears.

 _The last time she did not even make a sound._ _Not even when he made her bleed._

He was gripped by a wave of nausea, his own words crashing over him.

 _I can't get it up if I'm fucking a corpse._

Olivia's heart clenched. She was watching Elliot fall apart. Her eyebrows knit together in shared grief, her tears locked away behind burning eyes. Elliot's jaw was clenched and his face was flushed, his nostrils spasming and his chest jerking intermittently from the occasional ragged breaths he struggled to take in. His fists were clenched at his sides out of the effort of keeping himself together, but he was losing the battle, the dim light of the room reflecting off of his increasingly shining eyes.

"Elliot," she said brokenly, unable to move. She was caught in an odd sensation of time passing in slow motion, the periphery of the room fading from view and all sound ceasing. It was the type of warped reality that hit one during times of crisis - the seconds before an imminent car crash or an unavoidable fall. She was tethered to him in such an all-encompassing manner that it felt as though nothing more existed beyond the confines of their shared space.

He let out a pressured exhale as her voice met his ears, quickly pressing his lips together and re-clenching his jaw as a means to prevent any sound from escaping.

Olivia finally found the strength to move, approaching him as slowly as one might approach a wounded animal. He was still facing Lara's bed, rooted on the spot, and she ultimately came to stand facing his side, her head tilting in a failed attempt at making eye contact. She reached for him, cautiously placing a palm on his shuddering back and bringing her other hand to flatten over his heart.

The tendon in his jaw flexed, his features twisting into an expression containing such anguish that Olivia's own tears broke loose, quietly rolling down her cheeks to splash onto the tiles at her feet.

"Elliot, let go," she whispered.

He continued to fight, his arm muscles visibly shaking and his chest jerking beneath her gentle touch.

"You have to let it out."

Her words were barely audible, but the urgency and empathy contained within pushed him over the edge. His body spasmed and he let out a strangled utterance so full of pain that Olivia crumbled with him. He doubled over, slowly lowering himself to his knees as he rested his fists on the side of Lara's bed, his forehead pressing against them as he shielded his face from view.

She knelt with him, trying to enfold him in a stronger embrace.

His back was heaving, the harsh breaths he was expelling the closest thing to sobs that she had heard from him since the night she'd comforted him in the immediate aftermath of the undercover.

"It's not your fault."

She shook her head against him, her lips resting against his shoulder.

"…not your fault.…"

Olivia continued her efforts at providing comfort, continuing to hold him and giving him the space to grieve while she murmured words of reassurance and understanding.

"Shhh…" she soothed as his chest reflexively spasmed as he attempted to take in a deeper breath, his head shaking against his fists out of frustration at his lack of control. "You can't rush this, El. Stop trying." She relaxed her grasp to smooth her hands over his back, his arm, his nape, her torso still pressed closely against his side.

As his breathing gradually stabilized, he lifted his head from his hands, looking up at the ceiling and swiping angrily at the moisture that coated his cheeks. _"Please, don't let her remember. Please, God…Please help her to forget…Please help her to heal…"_ He squeezed his eyes shut, not protesting when Olivia gently placed her palms on either side of his face, coaxing him to turn toward her. She raised herself up higher on her knees, placing a kiss on his forehead and allowing her lips to rest against him, her thumbs slipping along his skin and brushing away the residual tears that continued to fall. She attempted to shift even closer to him, her knees brushing against his thigh as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands had fallen heavily into his lap, but they finally lifted to hold onto her waist. Her lips lifted from his forehead just enough to trail lower, grazing the bridge of his nose before reaching their intended destination and brushing lightly over his.

Their eyes remained closed, mouths connecting in tender exploration, Olivia absorbing his jerky breaths and soothing him with her gentle caresses. His thumbs were gently running along the sides of her abdomen, the rest of his fingers grasping the fabric of her shirt to try to anchor himself.

When they drew apart, his right hand lifted to brush the hair back from her face, his index finger stroking the contour of her cheek and trailing down to tuck beneath her chin. She was regarding him with a mixture of compassion and concern, pure understanding in her gaze. His reddened eyes held hers, overwhelmed by exhaustion and feeling physically and emotionally drained. Despite his inherent vulnerability in that moment, he did not make attempts to re-erect his defenses. He let his hand fall away, taking hold of hers and pressing his lips against her knuckles.

Her fingers tightened around his in response.

"Come on, Stabler," she said softly, "I'll drive us home."

She straightened, their hands remaining joined even as they pushed themselves up to stand.

Elliot followed her lead, silently crossing the room with her and somewhat mechanically going through the motions of collecting belongings and putting on his jacket. His head was in a fog, his body acting reflexively with no thought process behind it. Perhaps Olivia could sense this as well, as she was the one who quietly zipped up his jacket, her hand digging into his pocket for his keys. He watched as Olivia moved back to Lara, stooping to place a kiss on her forehead and tucking her in more securely.

Olivia turned her head over her shoulder, catching sight of the somewhat vacant look in his expression as he stared off in the direction of Lara. She wordlessly closed the distance between them once more, taking hold of his hand and waiting for his head to turn back in her direction before grasping onto him more securely and heading toward the exit, her actions serving as his guide.

The frigid night air bit into them as they emerged from the hospital, their breaths condensing into transient clouds that swirled around them and continued to do so even after they were seated inside the car. Olivia shivered and adjusted the heat, casting a glance at Elliot who continued to look out the front window, seemingly unaffected by the cold.

It was not until they had crossed over the Henry Hudson Bridge and Olivia began navigating her way across town that Elliot realized she was taking them back to his apartment, not hers.

He tried and failed to form a coherent sentence, his voice rough. "Liv, I thought…I mean…"

"Tomorrow," she interjected softly. "We can head over to my place tomorrow."

He nodded.

She was relieved to find street parking only a couple of blocks away, and even more relieved when they had ultimately made it inside his apartment. All of her focus was placed upon helping him get through the nighttime routine as quickly as possible so that he could crawl into bed. Elliot's mind was doing what hers had done the other night - protective numbing. There were no internal resources left for executive functioning. Olivia would have to do it for him.

He had taken off his jacket but it continued to dangle from his palm. Olivia took it from him, hanging it on the hook behind the door and walking with him down the hall to his bedroom. He rubbed a hand over his face as he watched her sift through his dresser, eventually distractedly working to pull his fleece and T-shirt over his head. She turned back around in time to see him wince slightly, his movements having aggravated the gunshot wound on his arm.

Her brow furrowed. "We should change the dressing."

She gestured toward the bathroom with a slight incline of her head and he nodded and followed her across the hall. He stood behind her, watching as she pulled out some more first aid supplies. Her shirt rode up a bit as she reached for an item from the top shelf of the cabinet and his eyes fell to the sliver of exposed skin around her abdomen. She caught his focus in the bathroom mirror and did her best to ignore the heat his gaze invariably caused to flow through her. He dragged his eyes back to hers and she pivoted to face him, his proximity and bare chest not helping her focus. She cleared her throat in attempts to clear her head, working to carefully unwrap the gauze from his arm.

She gingerly peeled the rest of the dressing away, discarding it in the trash and grimacing as she looked at the angry looking bruising surrounding the stitches. She glanced up at him in concern as she started to clean the area, doing her best to do so as delicately as possible.

"It's fine, Liv," he managed.

She returned her attention to his arm, pulling out a square sterile pad and holding it lightly against him as she began to secure it again by re-wrapping his arm in a fresh gauze bandage.

"Okay?" she asked as she finished, setting the supplies aside.

He nodded.

She turned back around, readying his toothbrush and handing it to him before following suit. He finished brushing his teeth a moment or two before her, his hands coming to rest along her upper arms. She stooped to rinse her mouth, and when she turned off the sink and straightened again, he wrapped his arms around her waist, gently pulling her back against the warm wall of his chest.

He held her gaze in the mirror, darkness still visible in his eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly.

She shook her head lightly, as if to say there was no need. "You've more than done the same for me, El."

She ran her hands along his arms and he gave her a squeeze before slowly letting her go.

When they returned to his bedroom, he lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed, pulling off his shoes and socks to finish undressing before belatedly realizing that he should have given her the opportunity to have some privacy to change. "You want me to uh…" he gestured to the door, a question in his tone.

She was touched by the fact that his weary mind had even been able to generate the concern. "It's okay, El," she said, toeing off her own shoes.

He hesitated, his hands poised at the waistband of his jeans.

"Really." Olivia unzipped the hoodie she'd stolen from him that day as a means to reassure him, taking it off and placing it on his dresser.

He nodded, lifting his hips off of the bed enough to remove his jeans.

One by one, Olivia slipped her arms out of the sleeves of her T-shirt and back again as a means to somewhat modestly extricate herself from her bra. She slid her own jeans down over her hips and off of her, stepping out of them and folding them on top of the rest of the pile. She was reaching for the pair of sweats she'd removed from his dresser before their pause for first aid when his voice met her ears.

"Liv?"

She turned her head over her shoulder with a question in her eyes.

"Would it be okay if…" he trailed off. "I mean…" He shook his head, rubbing a palm over his forehead and looking down at his feet. "Never mind."

He wanted to feel her - wanted the reassurance of her presence tonight in a more tangible way - but didn't know how to ask her that without it coming across in the wrong way.

Olivia was doing her best to read between the lines. He was still seated at the edge of the bed, stripped down to his boxers, his chest bare.

His hand fell back to his side, his expression haunted as he stared down at the carpet.

Olivia was struck by the thought that everything about him was stripped down right now, his emotions raw and his defenses broken. She slowly lowered her hand, opting against the sweats as she processed his unspoken request. She made her way over to the door and clicked off the light, returning to stand before him.

"This?" she asked quietly, cupping his cheek in her palm.

He leaned into her touch, his lips brushing along the inside of her wrist before he made himself pull back. "I don't mean…I'm not asking for…" he trailed off again, expelling a puff of air in frustration, feeling as though he was putting her in an uncomfortable position and wishing he had never tried to ask this of her in the first place. "If you don't feel com-"

"Hey…it's okay," she reassured him. "Tell me what you need."

He exhaled bitterly, hating himself for his weakness. He needed to get his shit together, that's what he needed. He needed to stop asking Olivia for things that he should be able to do for himself.

"Stop," she instructed. Olivia felt his jaw flex beneath her palm. _"Stop,"_ she repeated firmly. She moved around him, climbing up on the bed and slipping beneath the covers, holding them open for him. "Lie down."

He scrubbed his palms over his face, his back still toward her.

"Elliot?"

"I shouldn't have asked this of you in the first place."

She sighed. "Elliot, what makes you think that I don't need this just as much as you do?"

His body language slumped - a sign of a transition from anger to resignation.

"Please lie down."

He rubbed a hand along the back of his head, the last hesitation before he joined her beneath the covers, but he opted to remain on his side, still upset with himself and unwilling to face her.

Immediately, Olivia was there, closing the distance to spoon him from behind, an arm draped over his waist.

Elliot felt himself relax at the contact despite himself. Her hand was lightly stroking his chest, their bare legs intertwined. The shirt she wore had ridden up and he felt the warmth of her abdomen against the small of his back.

Olivia felt as his breathing gradually deepened, the tension in his body beginning to ebb away. She continued the steady motion of her hand, her lips resting in the dip between his shoulder blades.

"Tell me something, El. Why is it that you're constantly telling me that I'm allowed to be vulnerable and ask for things, but the minute _you_ need something, you won't let yourself do the same?"

He sighed.

She gave him time, her lips dragging gently back and forth against his skin, both as a means to soothe him and to deter him from pulling away.

"It's not..." he sighed again. "I just...I don't want to ask for the wrong things."

"How was this the 'wrong thing'?"

He fell silent for a long while, but she waited for him.

"Liv...you are the most giving person I've ever met." He paused again, trying to find the words. "I know that you would put my needs above yours...even if...even if it's something you might not be ready for." His voice trailed away as he finished speaking, as if afraid that his words would make her defensive.

Olivia tried to wrap herself around him more securely. "Elliot, you have to trust me."

He remained silent, his breathing betraying his conflict.

Beyond trusting her, Olivia recognized that there was another, more complicated piece to this. The implication of his last statement was that his reluctance to ask her for this had stemmed from his fear that she wouldn't feel comfortable with him being physically close to her in this way. That she would need sweatpants or similar layers of protective barriers in order to feel safe in his arms. Perhaps worse, it meant that he'd convinced himself that even if she _had_ felt uncomfortable, that she would have complied anyway on his behalf.

"El, when we came home last night, after...everything," she swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She didn't want to think back to their terrifying hours in the club. The nightmare of all that had transpired was too close to the surface - barely contained by tenuous willpower alone. Yet despite the proximity to the events, it was almost unfathomable to her that it truly had only just been one night prior that they had left the carnage behind to trudge up the stairs to this space.

She felt his hand come to rest along her forearm, offering quiet understanding and reassurance and helping to ground her. "After everything," she repeated, her voice more steady, "I needed you. I needed you with me, and you stayed." He'd been with her every step of the way - helping her wash away the physical evidence of the trauma they had weathered. "Why would you think I wouldn't feel comfortable with this, when I felt safe with you last night?"

"That was different," he replied gruffly.

"How?"

Elliot exhaled heavily. It was different because when she had asked him to stay with her in the shower, she was barely able to function, unable to close the floodgates to the memories of all that had transpired. She'd spent so many hours trying not to feel, that once the dam broke she had felt everything at once. She hadn't had the capacity to think or make decisions based upon anything other than impulse alone. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that had she retained her control, under any other circumstance, Olivia would never have asked him to stay.

It was different because tonight they were in his bedroom, in his bed, and he was fully aware of the fact that when he'd uttered his truncated attempt at the question, Olivia had been reaching for his sweatpants. His jaw clenched. She'd been reaching for his sweatpants, and he'd _stopped_ her.

He physically ached.

"Elliot, please talk to me."

"You were hurting last night, Liv. You needed me. It wasn't...it wasn't by choice. And tonight?" He paused, and when he continued his voice was almost inaudible. "I feel like I took that choice away from you."

Her heart broke. "Elliot, you need to listen to me. Please turn around?"

He made no move to comply, and she sighed in frustration.

"Fine," she said with a dangerous hint of challenge in her tone, removing her arm from his waist.

Elliot felt a rush of cool air hit his spine as she rolled away from him, his breath catching in his throat at the thought that he had upset her...and then he stopped breathing or thinking entirely when she wrapped herself around him once more, her bare breasts pressing against his back.

"What are you...uh-" he stammered, thoroughly flustered.

She smiled to herself. "Proving my point."

He swallowed. "Which would be...?"

She held him to her more tightly. " _You_ make me feel safe, Elliot. I don't need barriers. Just you." She absently stroked her thumb along his chest. "You didn't take anything away from me tonight."

Olivia waited for a sign of acknowledgement from him that he was truly absorbing her words. She couldn't suss it out by the rise and fall of his chest alone, and when he still said nothing she pushed him again.

"Please tell me you're hearing me. You've put so much blame on your shoulders throughout this. I'm not going to let you beat yourself up for something you didn't do. My choices tonight were my own."

"Okay," he acquiesced.

He ran his hand along her arm, his warm palm coming to cover the back of her hand, and their fingers interlocking. They stayed like that for a long while, holding one another, finding a moment of peace where all that consumed their thoughts was the reassuring physical presence of the other.

Olivia's soft voice eventually broke the silence, still wanting to look him in the eyes. "Please turn around."

He scraped his teeth over his lower lip. "Liv, I uh..."

"I can put the shirt back on," she spoke through her smile.

He breathed a laugh. He didn't want that, but he also didn't trust his body not to react to her presence, let alone her state of undress. Being physically close was one thing. Being physically intimate was another, and he knew that they both wanted to tread carefully along those lines.

"Give me a minute," he said, squeezing her arm before sliding out of the bed.

She watched him move through the darkened room, chuckling as he picked up the same pair of sweatpants she had been reaching for earlier.

He put them on before returning to the bed and sliding under the covers to join her once more.

He lay on his right side this time, facing her fully and pulling her into his arms, their torsos flush against one another and their legs intertwined.

"I would have given you a pass, El," she said, amusement pervading her tone at the obvious reason for Elliot's self-imposed barrier.

He smiled against her hairline, his hand skimming along her spine. "I still might need one," he admitted sheepishly.

Olivia swallowed, not wanting to admit to herself nor to him the flicker of want that his caresses and proximity were sparking within her. She attempted to cling to the lightness of their words, forcing nonchalance into her tone. "I'll keep that in mind."

The wind outside was picking up, occasionally whistling through the buildings before dying down once more.

Elliot held her more tightly to him. This was what he'd needed - the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the softness of her skin, the subtle fragrance of her hair. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with calm more than air.

Olivia nestled contentedly into his arms, enveloped by his warmth, comforted by the protective strength of his embrace.


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter Note:_

 _Hi all... Over 8 years ago, I was sitting in a movie theater waiting for a film to start, and suddenly I had a flash of a scene that I knew I wanted to put into Breaking Point. I've carried it in my head all of these years, and we've been edging closer and closer to it, but (surprisingly to me) this is NOT that chapter yet. I've written some mega chapters before, but given the fact that this is already almost 25 pages, there's no way that I could get there without it being obscenely long. I can confidently say that the next chapter will be where I can finally put it into words, but I hope you'll be patient with me as I try to do so in the right way._

 _This chapter is dedicated to eotopia... Who am I to stand in the way of the magic of a full moon?_

 _For those who have taken the time to leave me your thoughts, I know I've already said it, but your words mean so much... xoxo, Jessica_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three**

Olivia was having a beautiful dream. She felt as though she were floating, caught somewhere between wakefulness and slumber, warmth flowing through her as much as she felt warmth wrapped around her. Muted daylight was falling across her face, filtering in through the curtained windows while rain steadily tapped against the glass. The light and the sound were coaxing her into consciousness, but she didn't want to emerge from the dream, the warmth transforming into a tingling heat that quickened her breath and made her want to move into the touch…Elliot's touch… Her eyes drifted open, recognition dawning.

Elliot was wrapped around her from behind, her back against his chest, his arm draped over her waist, and his hand lazily stroking the skin of her abdomen…slowly smoothing upwards along her ribcage…skimming higher until he cupped her breast in his palm.

Her breath hitched, her body reflexively arching into him, her chest pushing forward and her hips shifting backward, promptly stopped by the wall of his body which rocked against her in response.

"Elli-unh," she moaned lightly as his thumb brushed over her nipple.

He wasn't aware of his actions. She could tell by the weight of his arm and the heavy breaths in her hair that he was caught in the same half-asleep reverie that she had been a moment prior.

His hand continued its ministrations of her breast, and she struggled to find the willpower to put an end to this, her voice leaving her every time she opened her mouth. Every attempt to speak was eclipsed by the motion of his palm, the gentle manipulation of his fingers that caused pleasure to flood through her and heat to build in her core.

He began to stir - in more ways than one - and she bit down on her lip to try to distract herself from the sensation.

Without the power of speech, she instead found the wherewithal to cover his hand with her own, her grasp tightening around him as his hips rocked against her once more.

"Elliot," she choked out. "You've gotta…wake up…"

She turned her head over her shoulder in preparation to try to get his attention more readily.

"El…God, El," she groaned in another failed attempt at reaching him as his mouth caressed the shell of her ear, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to stand out along her skin.

"Mmm…" he mumbled, half of a question and half of a contented moan as her hips involuntarily pushed back against him once more.

"Elliot, we-"

"Liv?" he rasped, his hand immediately stilling its motions as awareness flooded over him.

The result was that they lay there, frozen, his palm still curved around her breast and her hand clutching onto his but making no attempts to pull his away. It was the first time that Elliot had touched her this intimately since the night of the undercover, and each of them were very much aware of that fact. It was a line in the sand that had been wordlessly but carefully delineated as a means to prevent them from moving too far, too fast - as if each knew that the moment the boundary was crossed it would spark a yearning for more than either of them might be emotionally ready for.

Elliot felt the quick rise and fall of her chest beneath his arm and was painfully aware of the connection of their lower bodies, his jaw clenching in attempts to hold still.

"Believe me," she said breathily. "I'm not convinced I want you to stop."

"I…I wasn't-"

"I know."

She felt the rigidity in his muscles as he tried to rein himself in, and she couldn't help herself from turning her head even further over her shoulder to brush her lips against his jaw, the action causing her lower body to shift against his.

He let out a stifled but audible groan.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I just…you feel…"

She shivered and her nipple hardened more against his palm.

Elliot couldn't help himself then, his touch lightening, but his hand dragging gently over her, reveling in the impossible softness of her skin and the hitch of her breath when he just barely grasped her nipple between the base of his thumb and forefinger.

"…so good…" she managed as he tugged ever-so-gently before releasing her once more.

He nuzzled his nose against her temple, making a mental note of her complete lack of effort to deter his actions, her hand merely resting on top of his as he caressed her. "Liv, please tell me this is that 'pass' you were gonna give me."

Barely grazing her skin, he extended his arm further around her, his hand slowly drifting across her body to curve around her other breast. He massaged her gently, his fingers lightly but deliberately coaxing her other nipple into a taut peak.

Olivia rocked back against him more purposefully this time, struggling to think clearly enough to speak. "Whatever you want to call it…"

Elliot continued to stroke her for another moment or two before reluctantly releasing her, bringing his palm to flatten over her breastbone and holding her gently but firmly in the cradle of his body as he gave each of them time to collect themselves.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Benson," he breathed into her ear.

He was using all of his willpower not to move his hand lower once more.

She laughed lightly, her body shaking against his, and he pressed his hand even more firmly against her, trying to hold her still as her movements drew more attention to every point of connection between them.

"Stop moving," he instructed her, the smile clearly evident in his tone.

She attempted to suppress it, but he'd only succeeded in making her laugh harder, her body silently shaking even more noticeably against him.

He'd had it then, and he tugged her over onto her back, holding his weight up and off of her as he looked down at her with an attempt at a glare that couldn't compete with his grin. His face was hovering inches from hers and she held his gaze with light dancing in her eyes.

"Sorry," she said unconvincingly with a slight arch of her brow.

Elliot tucked his tongue against the side of his cheek, nodding back at her with his eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh."

Olivia continued to look up at him, the playfulness in her expression gradually transforming into tenderness. Her arms were bent at the elbows, her hands resting on the pillow on either side of her head with her fingers curled inward toward her palms. Although her body language was relaxed, Elliot was cognizant of the fact that it was an inherently submissive posture. He continued to effectively have her caged beneath the frame of his body as he hovered just a short distance above her. He didn't want to replicate those power dynamics, not even in jest. Not after everything he'd put her through.

He ended the standoff, rocking back on his heels and taking hold of the blanket at the foot of the bed. He suppressed a smile as he tossed it on top of her, ignoring her yelp of surprise and proceeding to wrap her up in as thick of a barrier as possible before pulling her back into his arms, rolling halfway onto his back to allow her to rest on top of him.

She managed to wriggle her arms out of their cocoon, brushing her tousled hair back from her face as she looked down at him with amusement.

"You good now, Stabler?"

He reached up to cup her cheek in his palm. "Now _that…_ is a loaded question," he said softly, his thumb brushing over her brow.

Traces of humor still lingered in her eyes, although the way she briefly pulled her lower lip into her mouth betrayed her slight nervousness at his words. It wasn't that she was afraid of the truth they contained, but more an acknowledgement that she shared the same understanding of the depths they were dancing around.

They were edging more and more closely to the point of no return, each of them aware of the fact that once the restraint was gone, there would be no middle ground. They could feel the intensity of the need churning beneath the surface. It was something raw and powerful and all-consuming. Once unleashed, Elliot was afraid of his ability to keep himself in check - to be able to keep his wits about him enough to be perceptive of Olivia's emotional state, and Olivia was afraid of what it would mean to open herself up to him so completely.

Elliot immediately recognized the trepidation in her expression. He met her gaze with knowing eyes, his other hand lifting to mirror his right. "Hey…" he soothed, "c'mere."

He coaxed her to lower her head onto his shoulder, running his fingers repetitively through her hair and smiling when she relaxed against him. He loved that he could calm her in this manner. He thought back to the first time he'd slipped his fingers through her hair - when she'd given him permission to kiss her in those final moments before the undercover op. He had wanted to do it so many times over the years, watching the silky strands fall across her forehead when she was hunched over a file at her desk. He had done it again at the club, searching for a way to offer her gentleness as she knelt at his feet beneath the table that night. Somehow, despite all they had been through to date, he felt as though the intimacy contained in this gesture was one that made each of them feel the most peaceful.

"What time is it?" she asked, her head growing heavier against him.

"A little after 8:00am."

Olivia felt a pang of guilt at the fact that she had slept through an opportunity to be there for Lara, but she knew that both she and Elliot had been operating on fumes for so long, that they each needed to play catch-up.

"We can aim to get back to the hospital in time for her midday dose," Elliot intuited.

She nodded against him. "Will you be able to sleep?"

"Yeah, Liv." He let his hand fall away from her hair to wrap around her shoulders, his cheek tilting to rest against the top of her head. "Stop worrying about me."

"Can't help it," she mumbled into his chest.

* * *

The weather was abysmal, sheets of rain pelting the car as they made their way back up to Westchester. While they had intended to swing by Olivia's apartment before returning to the hospital, they had slept so long after falling back asleep that morning that the only thing they'd had time for was a brief shower before they needed to get on the road. She had swapped out one of his T-shirts for another, pulling back on her worn jeans, his grey hoodie, and her jacket before leaving the apartment once more.

The torrential downpour led to a slow commute, the traffic crawling along the parkway as people attempted to see out of windshields that had no chance of remaining clear. When they finally entered the parking lot for the children's hospital, Elliot had offered to pull up to the entrance to let Olivia out near the overhang, but she refused. Instead, once he found a parking spot, they braced themselves on a silent count of three and sprinted across the pavement. An umbrella would have made no difference, as the gusts of wind were so strong that the rain was essentially blowing inward from all angles.

They peeled off their dripping jackets as soon as they made it indoors, trying to get the worst of the moisture out before navigating the hallways, their shoes squeaking along the linoleum flooring. When they rounded the final corner en route to Lara's room, the familiar charge nurse, Colleen, was back on duty. She looked up from her chart at the nurses' station, her face breaking into a welcoming smile.

"Welcome back," she said as they drew closer, her eyes widening slightly as she took in their drenched clothing. "Oh my goodness, you poor things… Do you want me to grab you some towels?"

Olivia shook her head. "No thanks. We're fine, really. How is she doing today?"

Colleen gestured somewhat incredulously in the direction of her room. "That little girl is amazing. Another uneventful night and morning. She's still getting supplemental nutrition and hydration, but her appetite is picking up and she had a few bites of breakfast this morning."

Elliot smiled at Olivia's reaction to the news, her whole face lighting up in relief.

"Oh, Colleen, that's great news. Is she awake?"

"Hmm…she should be any minute now if she isn't already. As long as she looks comfortable, we might wait a little bit for her next dose of pain meds in case we can coax her to eat some more. Her lunch tray should be coming up soon."

Olivia nodded.

"Thank you," Elliot replied.

He walked with Olivia toward the door, but held back as she opened it to peer inside, waiting to see if Lara was awake.

"Nope, not yet," she said over her shoulder, gesturing for him to follow.

They gingerly made their way across the room, trying to make the least possible amount of noise as their wet shoes still squeaked against the tiles. When they reached the far side of the room, Elliot hung their jackets near the warm air vents in the corner in the hopes that they would dry more quickly. Olivia stared out of the window as he did so, the rain showing no signs of letting up anytime soon. Her jeans were cold and damp, her hair sopping wet, every inch of her body suddenly feeling the chill permeating her bones. She shivered, folding her arms across her chest and hoping the dry air in the hospital would start to have some effect soon.

Elliot walked back to her, concern in his expression as he watched droplets of water collect at the ends of her hair to drip onto her shoulders, the fabric of the sweatshirt marred by broadening damp circles.

"Are you sure you don't want a towel? I could go ask her for one."

"I'm okay, El."

"You're freezing." He tucked his right hand into his sleeve, reaching for her and trying to use part of his fleece to absorb some of the moisture from her hair.

She smiled at his completely futile attempt at making things better. "I'm fine."

"I don't want you to get sick." He ceased his efforts on her hair and instead ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to offer her some warmth.

"Stop worrying about me, Stabler," she replied with pointed amusement, echoing his instructions to her of late.

He smirked, his hands slowing their pace and his eyes sparkling in challenge. "Hazards of loving you, Benson," he replied gently, waiting for her inevitable response.

Olivia reacted as he'd anticipated, her face flushing slightly as she dropped her gaze to his chest, her expression equal parts happiness and discomfort.

He rescued her, snaking his arm around the back of her neck and drawing her into him with the crook of his elbow. She tilted her head so that it rested against his shoulder, facing out into the center of the room, but kept her eyes closed.

They remained together in silence for a moment, Elliot's free hand drifting to trace circles along her lower back in his efforts to calm her.

"I'm going to say it sometimes, you know," he said quietly.

Olivia wrapped her arms around him more securely. "El-"

"And one day, you won't need to hide from me when I do."

She cleared her throat softly, feeling a resurgence of nervousness at the unfamiliarity of this aspect of their dynamic together. She wasn't sure how to respond in a way that felt natural without leaving her feeling so exposed.

Above her, Elliot's lips quirked as he imagined the thoughts racing through her mind. He didn't need her to say anything. He knew. "Liv?"

"Yeah?" she replied a bit shakily.

"Just let me say it sometimes." He punctuated his words with a light tug from the arm behind her neck. "That's all I need."

"Okay," she breathed, nodding against him.

Elliot shifted his weight slightly from side to side, rocking her almost imperceptibly as she relaxed against him once more.

Olivia took a deep breath to center herself and opened her eyes. As she did so, she found herself in a parallel situation to Elliot's from the night prior, as Lara had woken up and was silently observing them from across the room. Olivia smiled, lifting her head off of Elliot's shoulder and tapping a palm lightly against his back. "We have an audience," she murmured.

Elliot slid his arm away to allow her to straighten fully, his other palm still lingering against the small of her back. His movements were slow and guarded, still concerned about how Lara might perceive him. She appeared to be gradually acclimating to his presence, and he didn't want to do anything that might tip the scales in the opposite direction. He looked over at Lara, offering her a gentle smile before returning his focus to Olivia and waiting for her to meet his gaze once more.

"Do you need anything?" he asked when she looked up at him again.

"No. Thank you." Her fingers hooked into the fabric of his shirt, unwilling to completely sever their connection. "You sure you don't want to try to stay for a while?" she added quietly.

He nodded. "She'll feel safer without me here."

"Okay." She reluctantly released him, slipping her hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "You going to go see Kat?"

"Yeah." He had responded automatically, but as soon as the word left his mouth he paused - as if belatedly contemplating the potential repercussions of that decision.

Olivia chuckled as she watched the wheels begin to turn and wariness descend. "You survived her for an entire day. What's the worst that could happen in an hour or so?"

"Uh-huh," he said flatly, his eyes narrowing. "Had a nice visit yesterday, did you?"

She said nothing, but he saw the tinge of color return to her cheeks as she quickly averted her gaze.

He smirked. "Alright, Benson. Wish me luck…"

"Good luck," she murmured.

Elliot waited for Olivia to approach Lara before he moved from the corner of the room, sensitive to the fact that Lara might feel more vulnerable should he cross the room when she was alone.

Olivia perched herself on the edge of the bed, enfolding one of Lara's hands between her own.

Elliot watched as Lara contentedly shifted more closely to Olivia, resting her head against her thigh. He felt a wave of emotion wash over him, but this time not from grief. It was a combination of the admiration he felt for Olivia's ability to connect so deeply with even the most traumatized individuals, and the love and hope he felt at witnessing their peaceful exchange. The horrors Lara had endured should have obliterated any sense of safety or trust in the world and the people around her, and yet she was already demonstrating flickers of resilience as evidenced by her ability to seek comfort from Olivia and to tolerate his presence in the room. She had even demonstrated a remarkable capacity for empathy in her concerned reaction to the sight of Olivia's injuries the day before.

He lingered by the door, regarding them with a mixture of pride and affection before quietly exiting into the hall.

Olivia held Lara's steady gaze.

"Hi sweetheart," she said softly, delicately tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here this morning."

A few moments passed and there was a knock at the door and Colleen entered, balancing Lara's lunch tray on top of a stack of towels.

"Your partner thought that you could use these," she said, extending the pile to Olivia once she had safely deposited the tray on the bedside table.

Olivia breathed a laugh, shaking her head at Elliot's stubbornness.

"He also said that I was not to take 'no' for an answer," Colleen continued with faux solemnity that was quickly undone by her smirk.

"Thank you," Olivia replied, reaching up to retrieve them.

Colleen continued to stare down at her expectantly until Olivia ultimately relented and wrapped one around her shoulders, using another to wring some of the moisture out of her hair.

Satisfied, Colleen shifted her attention to Lara. "Alright little miss, what say we try to have a few bites of lunch?" She pulled the table over so it extended across the bed, lifting the lid to reveal an assortment of soft food - macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, broccoli, jello, and some sort of finely chopped unidentifiable meat.

Olivia arched a skeptical brow at Colleen, none of the choices looking very appetizing.

"I know," Colleen muttered under her breath, "but the doctor wants her on a mechanical soft diet and we're trying to give as many options as we can."

"Well," Olivia said, making eye contact with Lara again and trying to infuse her tone with enthusiasm. "What do you think?"

Lara looked from Olivia to the tray and back again, her nose wrinkling in disapproval.

Olivia laughed softly. "I don't blame you, kid," she replied conspiratorially, "but it has to be better than the tube feeds."

Lara still didn't look convinced.

"Come on," Colleen nudged. "Up you get. Just a few bites."

She pushed the control to raise the head of the bed, forcing the issue as Lara had no choice but to come up into sitting.

Lara looked down at the tray in front of her, begrudgingly assessing her options.

"I have something for you," Colleen said with an air of mystery, "but only if you have some lunch."

Lara's eyes widened as Colleen pulled out a small box of crayons from one of the pockets of her scrubs.

"I'll leave these with Olivia, and I'll go look for some paper for you…but you gotta eat. Deal?"

Lara nodded.

Colleen handed the crayons to Olivia who accepted them with a smile, both women turning their focus back to Lara whose gaze remained fixed on the box with an almost reverent degree of wonderment.

Olivia's heart clenched at the realization that the magnitude of Lara's response likely signified that this was the first gift of this kind that she had ever received. She exchanged a glance with Colleen who had clearly come to a similar conclusion, tears in her eyes.

"I'll go get some paper," Colleen said quietly, emotion pervading her tone.

* * *

Elliot steeled himself before entering Kat's room, knocking on the door and opening it when he heard her utterance of acknowledgement.

Her face broke into a broad grin when she caught sight of him. "I was wondering when you might turn back up."

"Hi Kat," he said as he approached, taking hold of her outstretched hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it once more.

She looked markedly better than she had the day prior. Her color was better and Elliot was pleased to note that her oxygen support had been discontinued as well.

"Fin actually left?" he asked, stating the obvious.

"Yup. Cragen needed him back at the 1-6. It's just you and me, Stabler." She flashed him a knowing look.

One side of his mouth lifted into a somewhat guilty smile as he rubbed a hand along the back of his head. "You, uh… You look like you're feeling better today," he offered, lowering himself to sit in the chair to her left.

"Yeah. No more O2. I'm officially wireless," she quipped. "I'm hoping that means they'll let me get out of here soon… I hate hospitals," she added with a grimace.

Elliot nodded his understanding.

"What about you?" she continued. "How's the arm?"

"It's fine." He rotated his arm a bit to test the waters, as if only just remembering the injury. "Colorful," he added with a shrug.

"I'll bet."

"It's nothing compared to yours."

Elliot thought back to the night of the standoff, his mind flitting disjointedly between memories that were out of sequence but all too vivid in his mind: the shot that Kat took that saved his life, Petrov crumpling before him; the sight of Olivia behind the glass; the moment of icy recognition when he realized the extent of Kat's injury; the Russian roulette; his children's photographs on the cement floor.

He cleared his throat, his focus drifting to the general vicinity of where Kat's injury would be, concealed beneath the hospital blanket that covered her. "You gave me one hell of a scare, Bailey," he said quietly, turning his head to meet her gaze.

Her upbeat expression faltered momentarily, and she internally scrambled to fix it. "You're not going to get all mushy on me, are you?"

"Yeah, I am," he replied without missing a beat, his expression serious and not allowing her her attempt at evasive humor.

She shifted somewhat uncomfortably in the bed, averting her eyes and falling uncharacteristically silent.

Elliot felt like he was with the clone of Olivia Benson in more ways than one, recognizing the stages of her defense mechanisms and yearning to break through. He watched her press her lips together against the threat of emotion and his hand found hers once more.

Kat swallowed against the tightness in her throat, the tactile gesture bringing about another surge of emotion. Though she would never voice it, she had been terrified that night - first at the prospect of losing him and Olivia, and then by the sudden confrontation with her own mortality. It had shaken her more than she was willing to admit to anyone, let alone to herself, yet somehow Elliot was seeing through her attempts at minimization.

He tightened his grasp. "I owe you my life, Kat," he managed.

Her eyes flew to his, and for a long moment they held one another's gaze, neither speaking for fear of losing control.

"I owe you everything."

By voicing the words, Elliot realized just how overwhelmingly accurate they were. Had it not been for her actions, he would never have made it out of the club alive. Perhaps more terrifyingly, Olivia would have suffered a fate worse than death - being held captive and repeatedly assaulted by God knows how many men.

In surrendering himself to Kane, he had left Kat in an impossible situation. Yet not only had she succeeded in surreptitiously tailing them, but she had been able to act swiftly enough to bring backup just in the nick of time. Elliot wished he had a better means of conveying his gratitude.

Kat's eyes were burning, her blinks becoming more rapid as she fought to contain the moisture within. She hadn't been prepared for this version of Elliot Stabler. She'd anticipated the guarded, taciturn version with the rough exterior that he erected to protect Olivia as much as himself. She wondered how many people he'd actually ever let in to see this side of himself, and with that thought came the immediate knowledge that _this_ was the man that Olivia had fallen for. He was the protector of her physical and emotional safety, but willing to let his own guard down to reveal deeper truths if it meant helping her to do the same.

Kat attempted a shrug, but the movement caused a rebellious tear to escape from the corner of her eye.

Elliot's expression was pure empathy. "Kat-"

She quickly used her free hand to swipe at the trail on her cheek, rolling her eyes in frustration as she struggled to regain her composure. "Damn you, Stabler."

"I won't tell anyone," he offered with a light smile.

Kat breathed a laugh. "You'd better not. I won't be in this bed forever."

He recognized her second attempt at levity, and allowed it this time. "You threatening me, Bailey?"

"I know where you live, Stabler." Kat attempted a glare.

"Terrifying," he retorted, feigning boredom.

Kat's eyes narrowed, regarding him quietly with a dangerously self-satisfied smile on her face. She remained silent for a few moments for dramatic effect. "You reveal my secret…I reveal yours."

Elliot's face blanched. "Kat-"

She couldn't suppress the immediate laughter that erupted at the sight of his panicked expression. "You are too easy, Stabler," she said, shaking her head and wincing slightly as she tried to contain herself to stop her abdomen from jerking.

"Funny," he said flatly, releasing her hand and folding his arms across his chest.

Her laughter died down, but her eyes continued to sparkle back at him. "So we have an understanding."

"Apparently." He cocked his head to the side. "You're welcome, by the way."

Confusion flitted across her features. "For what?"

He paused, considering his words. "For my giving you an 'out'." His tone was gentle and his eyes kind.

"An 'out'," she repeated.

He nodded. "You really think I fell into that banter by accident?" He arched a brow.

She dropped her gaze, a slight smile on her lips. "No." Of course he hadn't. He'd intentionally allowed her to save face.

"So we have an understanding," he said softly, echoing her words.

"Yeah."

Kat glanced up at him again, gratitude in her eyes.

"I needed to say it," Elliot replied. "I know you didn't want to hear it, but I…" He swallowed, his throat tight as he remembered the fear that had gripped him at the thought that Kat was lost, and that he was to blame. "You almost…" he trailed off.

"Elliot, I meant what I said that night. If I could go back, I'd do it all over again. This?" She gestured to her injury. "This was not your fault."

He held her gaze, but said nothing.

She shook her head slightly, all traces of humor gone. "It was hell waiting for backup...just sitting there, waiting in the damn car. I heard the gunshot, Elliot," she said, her eyes dipping briefly to his arm. "I heard it and couldn't do a damn thing until my backup arrived." Her brow furrowed at the recollection. "It felt like hours had passed by and, naturally, I had already assumed the worst."

Elliot nodded, thinking of the times when he'd been in her position - on the outside, powerless to act.

"When we finally began to approach the building, all I could see in my head were flashes of you or Olivia on the ground. I thought we were too late," she admitted brokenly, pain in her eyes.

"I know," he rasped. "I felt the same way walking in there...not knowing what they'd done to Liv."

The use of the nickname stood out to her again, just as it had the first time he'd used it while trying to convince her that their partnership was strictly platonic. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him - heading into the wolves' den without knowing what he would find within those walls. She was suddenly struck by a wave of anxiety, realizing that she had been so relieved to see Olivia alive that she hadn't thought to ask her about what she might have endured during her hours of captivity. Her face drained of all color, fear in her eyes. "Elliot, please tell me that they didn't touch her," she said with urgency, afraid to hear his response.

Elliot drew a palm over his face, his expression grim. "No. At least, not to that extent. It was..." He closed his eyes for a moment and reopened them after a pause, trying to rid himself of the image of Olivia trapped behind the glass. "It was close, Kat. If you hadn't gotten there when you did..." He shook his head, trying to convey the magnitude of the danger by means of the intensity of his gaze. "I would have gotten the easy way out with that bullet. What Olivia would have endured..."

He stopped talking, unable to voice the alternatives.

"Okay," Kat said quickly. "I'm sorry. I just…I was so damn happy to wake up to see her standing there beside you... I didn't think to ask her when we were alone."

Elliot gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, looking down at the floor. Despite the number of times he'd questioned his faith over the course of the past week, he was forever grateful that Olivia had been spared at least that much.

"Besides, Olivia and I had other, more _pressing,_ matters to discuss," Kat said slyly.

If she'd been attempting to interrupt Elliot's train of thought, she'd most definitely succeeded by means of her tone of voice alone.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I have a feeling this is the moment where I suddenly remember I have an errand I need to run," he said dryly.

"Oh hush," she replied with an exaggerated eye roll. "You're telling me you have _no_ interest in hearing about how her eyes sparkled and her face lit up when we talked about you?"

"I have that effect on a lot of people. You should have seen Munch yesterday," he deflected, trying to suppress any outward signs of the immediate sense of pride and cheerfulness that washed over him at her words.

Kat snorted. "I'll bet."

* * *

Olivia had coaxed Lara to have at least a few bites from each of the various assortment of indistinguishable food groups on her lunch tray - macaroni and cheese being the biggest success of the available options and broccoli being the hardest sell. Throughout the meal, Lara's gaze continually drifted back to the package of crayons in Olivia's hand as if worried that they might disappear if she lost track of them. Olivia continually reassured her that she could use them as soon as she finished her lunch, but once Colleen returned with some blank paper, Lara looked up at her so imploringly that Olivia relented, proclaiming that she had made a good enough effort for the time being. The smile that lit up Lara's face contained so much joy that Olivia couldn't help but mirror her expression, moving the tray aside and placing the crayons and paper in front of her.

Initially, Lara handled the box of crayons so gingerly that Olivia wondered if she'd be too hesitant to use them, but after carefully drawing a few experimental lines with different colors, it was as if a switch had flipped and suddenly Lara was coloring with abandon. Scribbles transformed into more purposeful drawings, and Olivia found herself intrigued to see what images Lara would create in the aftermath of all that she had weathered.

After so many years working with childhood victims, Olivia opted against putting any parameters on what Lara might choose to draw. When Lara had looked at her with a question in her eyes, she had merely smiled reassuringly and said, "Draw what you feel."

Lara's first drawing was a portrait of the two of them. Olivia's arm was around Lara, and both figures were drawn with smiles.

"Is that you and me?" Olivia asked with enthusiasm. "I love it," she replied at Lara's nod.

Lara paused for a moment looking down at the page in solemn concentration before picking up another crayon and proceeding to draw a smaller figure in the background, also with a friendly appearance.

" _Elliot,"_ Olivia immediately realized, a wave of emotion coursing through her.

When finished, Lara handed the paper to Olivia with an expectant look.

"For me?"

Lara nodded and pointed to the couch.

"And Elliot?"

Lara pointed to the couch again - a silent request contained in the gesture.

"You want me to share this with Elliot?"

Lara nodded again, holding her gaze.

"I will. He'll love it."

Lara turned her attention back to the next blank page, sitting in quiet contemplation for a moment before starting to draw again. This time, when she finished, a small smile graced her features. The figures were rudimentary, but the intent behind them was clear: two figures embracing with contended smiles on their faces, a heart suspended in the air.

"Me and Elliot?" Olivia asked quietly, trying not to let the emotion permeate her tone.

Lara nodded and pointed at the heart, a question in her eyes.

"Love," Olivia echoed. "Do we love one another?" she continued when Lara tapped the heart again.

Lara cocked her head to the side, her gaze intent and unwavering.

"Yes, sweetheart. We were hugging because we love each other."

Lara paused and then added herself to the picture in the background, a smile on her face.

Olivia was struck by the hesitation. Lara had needed to know that the embrace was loving - safe - before knowing how to label her feelings about what she'd witnessed between them this morning.

Lara handed her the drawing with an incline of her head toward the couch again.

"I'll show him," Olivia replied, blinking back tears. "Elliot will love this one, too."

When Lara returned her focus to the blank page before her for the third time, Olivia felt the shift long before anything had transpired.

Lara remained completely still, her eyes staring at the page and long minutes going by before she reached for the crayons again. A small figure was the first to emerge, with green eyes and blonde hair like Lara's two prior self-portraits, but this time the mouth was downturned. The next crayon she picked was black, and there would be no more use of color in the remainder of the drawing. As she continued, more figures filled the page - large, looming presences with angry expressions and suggestive anatomy, one figure dwarfing all of the others with an especially malevolent appearance.

Olivia sat silently to her right making no move to intervene, her heart breaking as she watched two tears escape and roll down Lara's cheeks, collecting at her chin and splashing onto the paper. Lara began coloring in the rest of the page, darkness taking over all empty spaces and her strokes becoming harder and more haphazard. The tears were falling faster now, but she had yet to make a sound. She began scribbling furiously over the figures she had previously drawn, all becoming obscured by thick, jagged lines - and then, suddenly, the black crayon snapped in half.

Lara froze for a moment - caught somewhere between the deluge of emotion and shock at the destruction of her most prized possession - and then she let out a wail that tore Olivia in two.

Olivia immediately wrapped her up in her arms, rocking her back and forth as the keening cry filled the space. Lara's grief was pouring out of her in agonizing intensity. After having suffered in silence for such a prolonged period of time, her body and mind were unable to contain her torment anymore.

Olivia fought against her own emotional response, focusing all of her energy toward providing comfort for a little girl who had been robbed of her childhood.

"Let it out," she urged softly, continuing to rock Lara in her arms. "Let it all out...I've got you... I'm here."

Lara jolted in her arms as the door opened - Colleen having rushed in to check on the source of Lara's distress. Olivia quickly made eye contact with her, shaking her head almost imperceptibly in silent communication. Colleen nodded in response and wordlessly exited the room, leaving the two of them in private once more.

Lara's hands were clutching onto Olivia's arm, her tiny body shaking against the wall of Olivia's chest.

"I'm here," Olivia repeated. "You're safe...I'm not letting go."

Lara continued to wail - the pained cries too sustained to be described as anything else, the only interruptions being the heaving breaths she took in between them.

"You're safe now. No one will hurt you anymore."

Olivia continued her attempts to soothe her, years' worth of anguish flooding out of Lara at once and threatening to drown both of them in the process, but Olivia remained calm for her - the anchor in the storm.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed when Lara's cries finally subsided, the utterances gradually transforming into quiet sobs, then whimpers, then jerky breaths, until silence descended upon them once more.

Long after Lara had quieted, Olivia continued the gentle rocking motion, Lara's body becoming heavier in her arms. Once Olivia felt she had sufficiently calmed, she slowly helped to ease her down onto her pillow.

Lara was drenched in sweat, her hair clinging to her damp forehead, and Olivia wanted to get her a cool compress to make her more comfortable. She started to pull away but was stopped by Lara's grasp on her forearm.

Olivia placed a palm to her cheek. "I'm coming right back. I just want to get something that might make you feel better, okay?"

Lara nodded.

Olivia crossed the room to the sink, wetting a corner of a hand towel as no washcloths were in sight, and returning to Lara's side. She gently held the cool cotton to Lara's flushed cheeks, smoothing it over her forehead and delicately resting it for a moment against each of her swollen eyelids.

She was in the process of folding the towel over on itself to set it aside when Lara's fingers lightly came to trail over the red marks and bruising still visible on Olivia's hand and wrist. It wasn't the first time that Lara had honed in on Olivia's injuries, but the moment felt weightier against the backdrop of the day.

Under other circumstances, Olivia might have attempted to redirect the focus, but she recognized Lara's need to process the information and held still, allowing her to do so. Olivia was genuinely undecided as to how to respond - Lara's silent question hanging in the air.

Ultimately, she attempted a somewhat evasive means of reassurance.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. Please don't worry."

Lara looked up at her with a furrowed brow, clearly not satisfied with that response, her gaze drifting to the cut on Olivia's cheek again.

Olivia let out a controlled exhale, inwardly cursing the abundant remnants of injuries that were not fading quickly enough.

Lara picked up her drawing, pointing to the heavily scribbled over figure that had once dominated the page.

Olivia swallowed. "Nikolai?" she asked softly after a pause.

Lara's reddened eyes held hers expectantly, seemingly seeking confirmation of a shared perpetrator.

"Yes," she found herself responding. To deny Lara the truth somehow felt as though it would be another violation.

After a brief hesitation, Lara picked up the drawing she'd made of Olivia and Elliot embracing, staring at it for a moment before looking up at Olivia with trepidation in her expression. She pointed at Elliot, a question in her eyes.

Olivia's mind was racing, trying to figure out if there was a possibility that Lara remembered any part of the events in the basement that night. Did she remember Elliot's words? Had she been aware enough to retain a memory of the physical altercation Olivia had instigated as a stall tactic? If she had, and Olivia lied to her, the deception would undermine the foundation of trust she'd established with her...but to tell her the truth?

The silence stretched on, and Lara clearly felt she was taking too long to respond. She pointed to Elliot again, her breathing quickening.

Olivia closed her eyes, trying to figure out what the hell to say, when Lara's small voice met her ears.

"Hurt?"

Olivia's eyes flew open, her expression melting into one of compassion and concern. She reached for Lara, framing her small face between her hands. "No." She shook her head. "No. Elliot _helps_." She looked back and forth between her eyes, hoping to make her understand. "Elliot and I... We tricked Nikolai...to stop him. We stopped him and all of the bad men."

Lara cocked her head to the side.

Olivia sighed. She didn't have the first clue how to try to explain an undercover operation to her.

"Elliot _pretended_ to be bad... It was only pretend. He doesn't hurt me or anyone else."

Lara regarded her thoughtfully, as if trying to decide what to make of the information.

Olivia pressed again. "Elliot helps." The corners of her mouth lifted into a small smile, pointing to the heart on Lara's drawing. "Elliot protects. He keeps everyone safe. Okay?"

Lara nodded, slowly lowering the drawing and pointing to Nikolai's figure on the adjacent page again. She looked up at Olivia once more, her eyes welling with tears. "Hurt." Her chin quivered as the tears began to fall.

Olivia fought back her own tears, enfolding Lara into her arms as she coaxed her head onto her shoulder. "I know, baby. I'm so sorry."

They lay side by side, Lara curled up in Olivia's embrace. The grief came in waves this time, her sobs inaudible except for the shuddering breaths she expelled and the sniffles that were partially muffled as she buried her face into Olivia's shoulder.

Olivia intermittently stroked Lara's back or ran her fingers through her hair, occasionally murmuring words of support and reassurance, but for the most part she remained silent to allow Lara the space to grieve. The better part of an hour had passed when Lara finally quieted again for long enough that Olivia was certain that she had fully calmed once more, her head heavy where it rested against her. Olivia shifted just far enough to draw the blanket up around them, deciding that she would hold her until she fell asleep. She rested her cheek against the top of Lara's head, smoothing her palm along her back in a slow, continuous motion in an effort to lull her back to slumber.

"You found your voice today," Olivia whispered, her words washing over them as softly as her caresses. "I'm so proud... You are so brave..."

Lara curled her fingers around her shirt, taking in a large, somewhat jerky breath and exhaling slowly.

"That's it," Olivia encouraged. "Slow, deep breaths..."

Olivia flashed back to the moment in the car when Elliot's breathing had soothed her more than words could have been able to. She attempted to do the same for Lara in the present, concentrating on taking slow, even breaths to match the motion of her palm.

"You're safe, sweet girl... You're free… No one will hurt you anymore."

The door opened quietly, Colleen catching Olivia's eye and waiting for her nod before slipping inside to administer medication. Lara stirred a bit, her eyes opening to watch Colleen's movements.

"Elliot is outside," Colleen whispered. "He didn't want to upset her, so..."

Olivia nodded.

Lara looked up at her then and Olivia smiled reassuringly in response.

"I'll see him later. It's okay...and I'll show him your beautiful drawings."

Lara continued to scan her face, her eyes searching hers even more closely than usual.

Olivia couldn't decipher the look in her eyes, Lara's mind clearly working something over internally. "What is it, baby?" she asked quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Lara remained quiet for another moment or two before her gaze drifted over to the door. Her fingers were absently playing with a fold in the fabric of Olivia's sweatshirt, her breathing slow and even.

Olivia waited for her.

"Safe?" Lara eventually murmured - half a question and half a statement.

Olivia regarded her thoughtfully, inclining her head to try to catch her eye, but her focus remained on the door. "Yes. You're safe now."

Lara shook her head where it lay against her. "Elliot?" she asked.

Olivia exchanged a glance with Colleen, who had stopped mid-motion upon hearing Lara's voice for the first time.

"Yes. Elliot helps keep everyone safe."

Colleen crouched down, being in a better position to make eye contact with Lara. "You want me to tell Elliot it's okay to come in?" She tapped a hand against the drawings on the rolling table. "You can show him your drawings?"

Olivia opened her mouth preparing to reinforce that there was no pressure for her to agree to anything she wasn't comfortable with, when Lara unexpectedly nodded her consent. Olivia's breath hitched, aware of how significant this would prospectively be for Elliot.

"Just for a little while, sweet pea," Colleen continued, handing Lara the drawings and moving the table aside. "Your medicine is going to make you sleepy really soon."

She stood, making her way into the hall.

Olivia placed a kiss on the crown of Lara's head, pulling her more closely against her in the hopes that it would help her to feel more secure.

When Elliot entered the room, he did so cautiously, tapping lightly on the door as he opened it, and lingering at the threshold in case Lara changed her mind. He locked eyes with Olivia for a moment before addressing Lara with a gentle smile. "Hello again," he said softly. "Is it okay if I come in?"

Olivia looked down at her, watching as she responded with a light nod.

Elliot quietly closed the door behind him, maintaining eye contact with Lara and starting to make his way toward the sleep couch at the far side of the room. He had only traversed a few feet before Lara took hold of her drawings and extended them toward him in a somewhat tentative gesture. Elliot froze in mid-step, unprepared for the overture.

Olivia's hushed tone washed over each of them, helping to soothe them both. "Lara drew some beautiful pictures today..."

Elliot's eyes flitted between the two of them before centering on Lara once more. "Did you?" he said softly, his smile broadening. He slowly approached the bedside, trying to exude calm. He had never been more cognizant of his size or his gender than he was in that moment. He tried to figure out a way to make himself less of an imposing presence, opting to make a slight detour to pull a chair over to the bedside. He made sure to position it on the same side as Olivia, her body creating a natural barrier between him and Lara, and lowered himself to sit before making any move to extend his arm in Lara's direction.

He lightly grasped the pages, waiting for Lara to release them before thanking her and situating himself in a way that all three of them could look at the drawings simultaneously.

Olivia watched the subtle traces of emotions play out over his features as he quietly took in the significance of all three drawings. "Do you think Elliot can guess who the people are?" Olivia asked as a means to give him a moment to collect himself, Lara looking up at her with some uncertainty.

"Of course I can," he replied indignantly.

Lara looked back at Elliot, a small smile breaking free when he held up the drawing of the figures embracing and confidently and intentionally misidentified Olivia as himself and himself as Olivia.

"What?!" Olivia replied with faux incredulity, humor dancing in her eyes.

Elliot apologized and promptly pointed at the smaller figure with blonde hair in the background and once again misidentified it as himself.

Lara let out the closest sound to a giggle that had likely ever emerged from her lips, Olivia smiling down at her and shaking her head in shared exasperation.

"What are we going to do with him?" Olivia asked her, rolling her eyes.

Lara looked at him for a moment, a hint of a smile still on her lips as she pointed to the male figure and then pointed to Elliot.

"Oh, _that's_ me," he replied, as if finally figuring it out for himself. "So that must make this beautiful one, Olivia."

Lara nodded, her smile growing again in satisfaction.

"I love it," he said warmly. "And this one makes me very happy," he pointed to the drawing with Olivia and Lara in the foreground.

Elliot purposefully held the drawings so that all three of them were partially visible, but decided to refrain from commenting on the darker one, waiting to follow Lara's lead.

Both he and Olivia noted when her gaze drifted to it, and Olivia quietly smoothed a palm over her forehead. All that was visible was the figure of Nikolai, and although Lara had drawn her lower lip into her mouth, her breathing remained even. Olivia wasn't sure whether her attenuated response was due to her level of fatigue, the medication she'd been administered, or if Lara had released so much emotion earlier that she had run out of tears to shed for the time being.

"Gone," Lara eventually murmured, almost more to herself than to either of them.

Olivia exchanged a look with Elliot, silently communicating that he should be the one to respond to her this time.

He nodded back at Lara, waiting for her eyes to meet his in order to more fully emphasize his meaning.

"Forever."

There was something in his tone - a level of exigency and sincerity that underscored the finality of the statement and instantly garnered trust. He wasn't addressing a child. He was addressing the tormented soul before him whose experiences of loss and abuse had resulted in a depth of discernment that far transcended her years.

Lara's eyes held his with an unwavering intensity that was reciprocated in kind.

It was an exchange that was so powerful, Olivia felt as though time was momentarily standing still. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to completely suppress her emotional response, her face flushing somewhat and her eyes blinking reflexively against the threat of tears. She attempted to conceal it, resuming her gentle caresses where her hand had woven into Lara's hair, but Elliot stole a glance her way and immediately recognized her internal struggle. He maintained his hold on the drawings with his right hand, reaching for her with his left and gently cupping her shoulder in his palm. Her body remained curled around Lara, continuing to shelter her as she had been for most of their emotional encounter this afternoon, but she tilted her head to rest her cheek against Elliot's fingers, wordlessly acknowledging the gesture of support he was offering her.

Elliot stroked her shoulder with his thumb, giving her a gentle squeeze before bringing his hand closer to his side, his wrist resting against her hip as a means to maintain contact while returning his focus to Lara once more.

She stifled a yawn, continuing to regard him through slow blinks as the medication began to take hold.

He placed the drawings at the foot of the bed, now resting his right forearm against Olivia's hip as well as he sat with them in silence. His hands were relaxed, carefully making no move to touch either of them - his left hand absently coming to curl over his opposite wrist, and his right hanging loosely over the frame of Olivia's body.

He smiled reassuringly in Lara's direction. He wasn't sure whether or not she would feel comfortable drifting off with him in the room, and decided to give her space. "You've been very brave today," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll let you get some rest." He indicated the door with a slight incline of his head, signifying his intent.

Olivia turned her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with him, gratitude in her expression. She momentarily lifted her arm from Lara, extending her hand to intertwine with Elliot's. She squeezed his fingers, preparing to release him, when Lara reached over and lightly touched her fingertips to their joined hands. They held still, not wanting to make any motion to deter her, but Elliot loosened his grasp on Olivia's hand a bit more as a means to further demonstrate to Lara that the contact between them was gentle.

Her light touch lingered momentarily over one of the red marks on the back of Olivia's hand that was particularly apparent, the scrape having been one of the deeper ones that had resulted from her struggles against the cement floor.

"He knows, sweetheart. He's being gentle." Olivia exchanged a glance with Elliot. "Here," she said, extricating her hand from his, and lightly intertwining her fingers with Lara's to show her. "See? Just like you and me." She waited for Lara to acclimate to the connection, and then very slowly brought their joined hands to brush against Elliot's palm.

He understood her intent and delicately curved his fingers around theirs with just the slightest amount of contact.

Lara held still for a moment, alternately meeting his gaze and looking at their hands.

"Okay?" he asked.

She nodded her head, another yawn breaking free.

Elliot exchanged a knowing look with Olivia, releasing his grasp.

She enfolded Lara into her arms, breathing more deeply as she felt Elliot's palm lightly curve around her upper arm.

Lara closed her eyes, her head tucked beneath Olivia's chin. She wasn't fighting the medication anymore; she wasn't hypervigilant. She had not only accepted Elliot's presence in the room, but had accepted perhaps the first voluntary physical contact from a man since her years of sustained abuse and neglect in the basement.

A tear escaped the corner of Olivia's eye, hidden from Elliot's view as it rolled down her cheek to be absorbed by Lara's pillow. She wasn't sure if it was due to the events of the afternoon and the emotions she had suppressed out of necessity in the face of Lara's grief, or to the relief she now felt at the fact that Elliot had finally been granted the gift of an interaction with Lara that was healing and pure.

She fought to control her breathing - systematically locking the emotions away and not allowing herself to crumble.

Not yet.

She drew Lara even more closely into her embrace, infinitely grateful for the bravery of the child in her arms.


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter Note:_

 _So...that moment that struck me all of those years ago? We're finally here. I'm feeling oddly emotional about posting this chapter. I don't know that I've had this level of nerves (if we overlook my complete panic about posting the club chapter) since probably Chapter 9. I had felt frozen then - worried about people's expectations and letting people down. I'm failing to explain myself very well, and I can't really explain too much because of all that you're about to read...but suffice it to say that as nervous as I am, I would welcome your feedback on this one. I can only hope that people are okay with the world I've been creating here. This time, my fear is that (especially for long-time readers) people might have very specific thoughts/wishes as to how BP should unfold. I hope you aren't disappointed with this chapter. It's incredibly long (53 pages, which happens to be longer than my one-shot "Deception"!) but I needed to keep this all together. So I will leave you with the words... Thanks to all of you for having gotten this far... xoxo, Jessica_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four**

Lara had fallen asleep in a matter of minutes, physical and emotional exhaustion taking hold and her medication easing her the rest of the way into slumber. Elliot and Olivia stayed with her in silent contemplation, the stillness in the room settling around them like a thick fog.

Each of them was struggling to process the immensity of all that had transpired that afternoon, and neither felt emotionally ready to do so. The silence was protective in that regard. It took the pressure off of trying to find the words that were not forthcoming - not that any amount of words would be sufficient. The rhythm of Lara's breathing had a somewhat hypnotic effect, giving them a shared focus and tethering them to one another. It felt as if any movement or utterance on their part would break the spell, and neither made any attempt to do so.

The minutes slowly stretched on, time passing without their awareness, and had it not been for the sound of the door opening, they might have remained in the quietude indefinitely.

They reflexively straightened, Elliot's hand immediately lifting from her arm, and a pang of sadness gripped Olivia at the realization of all that needed to remain hidden. Their internal world was light years beyond where they had started out the week prior, but the reality was that they continued to operate in a world in which the slightest amount of physical contact between them still felt like a transgression.

Elliot's body language visibly relaxed at the sight of Colleen entering the room.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said quietly.

Olivia and Elliot each shook their heads to dismiss the concern, Olivia delicately extricating her arm from beneath Lara's head and gently lowering her onto the pillow. She eased herself up into sitting, raking a hand through her hair. She felt Elliot's eyes on her but did not meet his gaze. She didn't have to look in a mirror to know that she likely appeared as drained as she felt.

Instead, she focused on Colleen, a hint of a question hanging in the air at the sight of the additional medication in her hand.

"The doctor wants to keep her sedated until morning," Colleen explained. "In light of...everything, it's probably not a bad idea to make sure she has some uninterrupted sleep."

Olivia nodded, her expression drawn.

"Are you..." Colleen trailed off, thinking better of the question. "Can I get you anything?" she amended, her eyes brimming with concern.

"No, thank you." Olivia attempted a half smile that did not reach her eyes, the sound of Lara's cries echoing in her ears.

"We'll be heading out soon," Elliot interjected quietly, his statement causing Olivia to look up at him for the first time.

He held her gaze, silently seeking affirmation of his intent. Elliot wanted her far away from prying eyes. He wanted to be able to support her in a setting in which she'd be sure to feel insulated enough to be able to let her guard down. Olivia wouldn't allow herself to be vulnerable here.

Olivia offered him a slight nod before protectively distancing herself again and dropping her gaze. The depth of understanding in his eyes was simultaneously reassuring and overwhelming. It was less a matter of her preparing herself to open up to him as it was the knowledge that he was already reading her so well that she didn't have to.

Colleen observed their nonverbal exchange, nodding her understanding as she stooped to tend to Lara.

They watched her movements as she adeptly fitted a blood pressure cuff around Lara's arm, noting that she was doing everything possible to finish her tasks gingerly so as not to disturb her. Olivia was glad that she was back on duty. It always made it easier to leave knowing that Lara was in such capable hands.

"You take as much time as you need," Colleen said as she finished up, lingering by the door.

"Thank you," Elliot replied, regarding her appreciatively.

"Absolutely," she said before slipping out into the hall.

He returned his focus to Olivia who was staring down at Lara's sleeping form. He longed to pull her into an embrace but could see the rigidity in her body language and knew that she wasn't ready to accept it yet. He settled on a happy medium, closing the distance between them as he came to stand slightly behind her right shoulder.

"She looks peaceful now," he offered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Olivia nodded her acceptance of his words, wishing that it could be so easy - that the cathartic outpouring of emotion Lara had weathered earlier could be sufficient to exorcise the demons and take all of the pain away. But they each knew better. The road ahead would be wrought with challenges, and the expression of grief that Lara had so painfully released that afternoon was only the tip of the iceberg to all that she would be grappling with in the aftermath of so much trauma.

Olivia swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Lara was a beautiful child, her small body dwarfed by the size of the hospital bed and the bedding that engulfed her frame.

"I will _never_ understand, Elliot," she murmured brokenly, her expression stricken. "No matter how many times..." she trailed off, unable to continue. How anyone could want to hurt an innocent child in such a horrific manner was beyond her comprehension.

"I know," he rasped.

He chanced it then, needing a tangible connection to her. He reached for her, his left hand hovering over her momentarily before slipping beneath her hair to rest on the back of her neck.

She closed her eyes at the contact, his thumb running lightly along her nape.

"Let me take you home?" he asked gently.

"Okay," she breathed.

He let his hand fall away, retrieving their jackets from the corner of the room while Olivia took a moment to tuck Lara in and whisper some words of comfort into her ear. He pulled his jacket around his shoulders and came to stand behind her, holding hers open for her as she slipped her arms through the sleeves.

Olivia thanked him, hesitating a bit as she picked up Lara's drawings and trying to decide whether or not to take them. "She wants us to have these," she said, "but I wonder how she'll feel in the morning."

Elliot nodded thoughtfully. "You want to leave one behind?"

Olivia followed his train of thought. It would be a concrete means for Lara to feel connected to them in their absence, while knowing that they had the others in their possession.

"Yeah, I think so."

They quickly came to the same conclusion, opting to leave the drawing featuring Lara and Olivia together, thinking that it would be a visual reminder of the fact that Lara was not alone. Elliot took it from Olivia's grasp, and she smiled as he proceeded to pull over the bedside table so it was in Lara's line of sight and situate things so that it appeared as though the teddy bear was holding up the drawing for her.

"Good?" he asked with a wink.

"Yeah," she replied, the corners of her lips still upturned. She carefully rolled up the other drawings and tucked them inside the pocket of her sweatshirt so that they would stay protected from the rain.

Elliot watched her fasten her coat, and then came to stand before her, his hand finding hers.

"You ready?"

She nodded, tightening her grasp on his fingers as a means to find the strength to keep moving.

* * *

As they approached the exit to the parking lot, they could hear the rainfall long before they reached the door. Elliot tried to convince her to let him run out to pull the car around so that she could stay warm and dry, but Olivia stubbornly refused. He'd heard the air of finality in her tone far too many times over the years to think that he'd have a chance of winning this battle, so he merely sighed - loudly - and readied his keys.

They sprinted into the downpour, out of breath and soaked again by the time they made it inside the car.

"You happy, Benson?" Elliot panted.

"Don't start."

"Next time just let me be chivalrous," he gritted, somewhat emphatically swiping at the beads of moisture dripping down his face and head.

"Hair wet?" she retorted, just barely containing her smile.

He shot her a glare, but when their eyes connected it was their undoing, amusement breaking through the surface and causing them to laugh in earnest.

"What a miserable day," he said, leaning forward in his seat and looking up at the sky.

"Yeah."

Elliot been referring to the weather, but even as Olivia's utterance of agreement fell from her lips, her tone shifted, the emotional weight of the day settling back in.

A rivulet of water escaped from her hairline to run down her forehead and she swiped at it with the back of her hand. She felt Elliot's eyes on her and could tell that he was silently reading her again. If she were to look at him, Olivia knew that she'd find compassion reflected back at her in the blue depths, but was worried that it might be the tipping point at which she would lose all control, so she continued to stare straight ahead.

"Where am I taking us, Liv?" he asked softly, careful to use the joint pronoun.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat, closing her eyes momentarily to center herself.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Your place?" Elliot continued gently, preempting her need to try to speak.

She nodded, setting her jaw and re-opening her eyes to focus on the rain pelting the glass.

"You got it."

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before letting go, putting his attention into safely navigating their way back to the city and affording Olivia the space to be silent.

Olivia didn't want to go to her place, but given how emotionally draining the rest of the day had been, she felt that now was as good a time as any to confront everything else. The idea of reentering that space for the first time since her enforced eviction held the same hollow feel to her as it had the day prior. She wasn't exactly sure why the thought of returning to her home of over a decade kept instilling such a feeling of dread within her. It wasn't just the associations with Petrov and the switchblade. That she knew for certain. His threats weren't the first to reach her within those walls, and they likely wouldn't be the last.

If she were being honest with herself, the truth likely had more to do with the fact that the memories she had in her apartment were largely hollow themselves - countless nights following difficult cases at work where she was met by an empty apartment with nothing to distract her from the void. Attempts at fleeting relationships here and there that had yielded a physical escape, but never finding anyone with whom she could share the deeper parts of herself; definitely never the darkest parts. Eventually she had stopped trying. The only person that knew her on that level was Elliot, and Elliot hadn't been an option. Perhaps she had ultimately revealed those parts of herself to him _because_ he had been off limits. He was safe. She entrusted him with her life on a daily basis, and at a certain point, that had meant entrusting him with everything else - the good parts and the bad.

After Sealview, she had shut down all together - the emptiness of her apartment mirroring the emptiness within. She had pushed everyone away, Elliot included. For a period of time, she had ostensibly become her mother - trying to stop feeling by attempting to lose herself completely in an alcohol-induced oblivion. That particular thought intensified the tightness in her throat. She wondered what Elliot would think of her if she divulged that detail of her coping, or lack thereof. He was so convinced that she was strong. In truth, the catalyst that had led her away from the bottle was fear - fear that she would be too incapacitated to defend herself in the event that she needed to. It was the same fear that led her to keep the Sig beneath her pillow every subsequent night until the evening they'd taken the photographs as a lure for Nikolai, and Elliot had spent the night on her couch. _"God,"_ she thought. _"Had that really been the first time?"_

Olivia scrubbed her palms over her face, trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling out of control.

Her insecurities were mounting again by the second, every negative thought she'd had about herself flooding to the surface. She felt weak. Damaged. Elliot thought that he had caused the damage by means of his actions during the undercover, but the damage was already there. She'd been feeling broken for so long.

At her place, she had felt isolated; at his place, she had finally started to feel whole. She didn't want to go back to that mental space, and was afraid that being in her apartment would trigger all of those memories and emotions once more.

She let her hands drop back to her lap, clasping them together and squeezing so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Liv?" Elliot's concerned eyes darted back and forth between her and the road. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she lied, quickly wracking her brain for a realistic sounding answer. "Just not sure what we'll be walking into after the way we left it."

They had left her apartment in a hurry that night. She'd haphazardly shoved things into a duffle bag and escaped with Elliot, leaving CSU techs crawling all over the place still dusting for prints.

Elliot nodded, not buying the excuse, but opting to accept what she was giving him for the time being. "I'll help you put things back together," he replied, extending his right arm across the console to lightly cover her hands with his own.

She stared down at his hand, the reassuring physical contact becoming familiar and less unexpected to her - a small reminder that things were different. _They_ were different. She closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth of his palm and trying to regulate her thoughts as much as her breathing.

Elliot maintained the connection as long as he could, only releasing her once they were in the heart of the city and his attention turned to the impossible task of finding street parking in the torrential downpour.

"Just take the first spot you find," Olivia said. "We'll never find anything close on a day like today."

He nodded, her words mirroring his own thoughts.

Even so, it took almost twenty minutes before they found something...seven blocks away.

Olivia couldn't help but smirk at the irony. No part of this process was going to be easy.

Elliot turned off the engine and exhaled heavily, the sound almost drowned out by the force of the rain pelting the car. "You want to try to wait it out?" he offered. "See if it lightens up?"

"Something tells me that's not in the cards," she said dryly.

He ran his palms back and forth a couple of times over his thighs, his jeans still damp from their previous sprint to the car. "Yeah, I know."

Elliot unbuckled his seatbelt, pivoting to rifle around the backseat and floor behind him until he found an umbrella and extended it in Olivia's direction.

She chuckled. "Stabler, have you looked outside?"

A gust of wind punctuated her words, causing another sheet of rain to strike the windshield and the passenger side glass simultaneously with a violent smack.

Best case scenario, the umbrella might have afforded her some slight coverage, but there was little chance of it standing up to the city tunnel winds.

He let out a mix between a sigh and a groan, tossing it onto the backseat again. "This time I really should have dropped you off out front," he lamented.

She turned her head, regarding him with a glint in her eye and a slight arch of her brow. "What, and let you have all the fun without me?"

Elliot shook his head, the right side of his mouth lifting into a half smile. "Alright, Benson. We doing this?"

She nodded and they exited the car in unison, jogging as quickly as they could through the deluge. The sky was darkening, and with it the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees, making the trek that much more unpleasant. They weaved in and out of slow moving pedestrians and parked cars, wordlessly veering right or continuing straight ahead through intersections depending upon the change of the traffic lights as they zigzagged their way to her street. By the time they made it to her building, they were completely drenched from head to toe. They made their way inside as quickly as possible, trying to catch their breath but needing to keep moving in attempts to thaw their icy limbs.

They silently trudged up the stairs, and it wasn't until they reached the final landing that the memory of Petrov's threat fully took hold of them once more. Olivia recalled the moment of near paralyzing fear that had gripped her at the sight of the switchblade, knowing that she was unarmed and an easy target should Petrov have emerged from one of the doors in her midst. Elliot remembered the visceral wave of panic that surged through him when he'd received her phone call, petrified that she would be harmed before he could get to her in time.

Olivia stared at her door, a thin slit in the wood the only remaining evidence of the knife that had once jutted out from the center. She ran her index finger along the mark, the tension in her jaw betraying her otherwise stoic demeanor.

"I'll fix it," Elliot said, his voice rough.

She didn't respond, her expression blank as she unlocked the door and led them inside.

They stood there, scanning the interior, pools of water collecting at their feet.

While it wasn't as chaotic as Olivia had thought it might have been, her apartment still showed prominent signs of the exhaustive search for evidence that night. Windowsills and various other surfaces were marred by the application of fingerprint powder; drawers and cabinets were ajar. She knew if she entered her bedroom, she'd find her closet in disarray, her dresser rifled through, and more traces of black powder. Had Petrov been successful in gaining access to the inside of her apartment, that would likely have been the first place he would have headed.

She shuddered, partially from the disturbing thought, partially because her entire body was shivering, her teeth practically chattering from the cold. The last person to have left the apartment had turned the thermostat down, likely doing her a favor by reducing heating costs while she wasn't in her home to require it; however, at the moment, the chill in the air wasn't doing either of them any favors. She turned up the thermostat and set about trying to remove her jacket, but her hands were noticeably shaking and Elliot took over.

He gradually unfastened it, his fingers equally numb. "Take a hot shower, Liv. Warm up a bit. I'll get started out here."

"Okay," she murmured as he carefully worked the sodden material down her arms. She was too tired and too cold to protest.

Elliot watched as she headed down the hall, removing his own jacket before hanging them both on the hook by the door. He vigorously rubbed his hands together, blowing on them as he tried to get back circulation, stretching and flexing his fingers a few times as he tried to decide where to begin. Ultimately, he opted to tackle the abundant remnants of fingerprint powder, retrieving a roll of paper towels and some cleaning spray from beneath the sink in the kitchen and getting to work.

By the time she re-emerged from the bathroom, Elliot had almost completely finished, the space looking ten times better than it had upon their arrival.

Olivia took a deep breath, casting her eyes over his handiwork and shaking her head slightly at how much he had accomplished without her. "Thank you," she said simply, gratitude in her expression.

Elliot was leaning against the kitchen counter, his hands in his pockets. "You're welcome." He inclined his head in the general direction of her bedroom. "I got the worst of it in there, but I didn't want to go through your stuff, so..." he trailed off with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

She offered him a tired smile. "I'll take care of it, thanks."

He had removed his sodden fleece but the rain had soaked through everything, his T-shirt and jeans clinging to him like a second skin. Despite her best efforts, Olivia couldn't stop her eyes from drifting over his frame. Now that she'd seen him…felt him…her mind perpetually conjured up flashes of memories that made her pulse quicken.

She assumed that Elliot had likely noticed her focus, so she didn't chance looking up again. Instead, she looked down the hall toward the bathroom, protectively folding her arms across her chest.

"The shower helped, if you want to warm up?" she offered, darting her eyes up to meet his before looking down at her feet. She felt the nervousness again - longing coupled with unease. Her awareness of his physical proximity had intensified since their intimate moment that morning. She couldn't recall a time in her life that she had ever felt such a strong pull toward someone while simultaneously feeling such an overwhelming urge to flee from it. "I can put things in the dryer while you're…um…if you want."

Elliot stepped toward her, keeping his hands in his pockets and, by extension, keeping both him and Olivia in safe territory. He wasn't oblivious to her response to him - in a different moment, he might have pushed the envelope a bit - but he was more concerned with the rasp in her voice and the redness of her eyes that were signs that she had been crying. As he had anticipated, she'd waited for the refuge of the privacy afforded her by the shower before allowing herself to release the emotion she'd held inside all afternoon.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

She swallowed, setting her jaw before looking up at him with a glimmer of pain in her eyes. She shook her head slightly, chewing on the inside of her cheeks. "Just a long day."

He nodded, silently waiting for her in the hopes that she would continue.

Eventually she did, her mind repeatedly cycling through the stages of Lara's breakdown.

"There's that moment, you know? That moment when the dam finally breaks? When it's too much to bear?"

He nodded, his gaze communicating empathy and recognition. "Yeah, I know."

"It's always gut-wrenching. That never changes. But Lara…" she trailed off, trying to put it into words without falling apart again. "I've never…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't get the sound out of my head."

Elliot extricated his hands from his pockets and reached for her then, his left palm cupping her cheek and his right hand delicately tucking a lock of damp hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I wasn't with you for that." His eyes searched hers for signs of resentment or blame and found none, but it didn't prevent the regret from coursing through him at the thought that Olivia was once again carrying another piece of trauma on her shoulders, and hers alone.

"You can't protect me from everything, Elliot," Olivia replied earnestly. He'd been trying so hard to ameliorate things since the club - trying to take care of her; trying to shoulder as much of the burden as possible in the aftermath to make up for his part in having caused her so much harm.

"How about anything?" he responded with a tinge of bitterness in his tone.

"Elliot, how many years have I elicited statements from victims? From childhood survivors?"

He sighed, his fingers sifting through her hair.

Olivia leaned into his touch. "And you know as well as I do that she needed a female to be there," she pressed.

"No." Elliot looked down at her with admiration. "She needed _you_ to be there."

Olivia's expression made it clear that although she was modestly refraining from acknowledging the distinction, she wasn't going to argue that point.

There was still a hint of a somewhat bashful smile on her lips when he slowly lowered his head to capture them with his own. The kiss was gentle, and he made a point to pull back before it transformed into anything else.

As he released her, his eyes lit up with a mischievous sparkle, his finger lingering beneath her chin. "And yes, you can put my clothes in the dryer while I'm naked in the shower."

Olivia's face flushed and her eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the playful remark, so she did the only thing that came to mind and smacked the back of her hand against his chest.

"Ow," he feigned injury, chuckling as he rubbed his fingertips over the area.

"Give me a second," she said with faux irritation, walking away and disappearing into her bedroom for a minute. When she returned, she was holding a worn pair of sweats and an equally worn T-shirt that he immediately recognized.

She quietly extended them in his direction, suddenly having a difficult time maintaining eye contact.

Elliot tucked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress his smile. The shirt - soft cotton with a faded USMC logo on it - had been lost, he'd _thought_ , for years. The sweats, on the other hand, he hadn't even realized were gone.

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. "Where were these the other night when I spent the night on your couch…in my dress shirt and slacks?"

Olivia lifted both hands, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears and finding something interesting on the floor to focus on. "I didn't think you'd give them back," she admitted quietly, her eyes darting up to his only briefly before looking away.

They'd been in the middle of a bear of a case years ago, countless consecutive nights spent taking turns catching a few hours of sleep in the crib. They had worn and re-worn clothes to the point that Olivia couldn't stand it anymore, capitalizing on a momentary lull to clear out both of their lockers to do a load of laundry. She couldn't explain why she'd held onto the items. It was done on impulse and all was quickly forgotten in the frenetic days that followed. After the fact, she'd considered returning them, but couldn't figure out a reasonable excuse for the delay, so had opted against it. Over the years, during difficult cases or moments in which she felt particularly vulnerable, she'd sometimes put them on as if they could bolster her mental state as much as Elliot's presence augmented her confidence in the field.

Now, with him standing before her, she felt embarrassed and wished she hadn't revealed that she had them at all. But they were his, and his clothes were sodden, and it would have been silly to make him wait for the dryer.

"Liv?" he said gently, his eyes kind.

"Yeah?" she said mid-exhale, glancing up at him again.

"Thanks."

She nodded, infinitely grateful that he was letting her off the hook.

Elliot made a motion to start heading to the bathroom but stopped and turned back to her, a contemplative expression on his face.

"You wore these?" He liked the idea of it.

"Sometimes… The shirt, mostly." She shrugged.

He regarded her thoughtfully. "I've had that shirt since Desert Storm."

"I know."

She still looked uncomfortable, and that hadn't been his intent. He smirked and arched a suggestive brow. " _Just_ the shirt?"

That did the trick.

Olivia chuckled, giving him a halfhearted shove in the direction of the hall.

* * *

Elliot found her standing by the living room window, gazing out at the city lights that were partially obscured by the rainstorm. It was a little after 5:00pm and the sky was already fully dark, the thick clouds having hastened the process, although at this point in the season it felt as though winter was steadfastly approaching. She had left the lights off, and he wasn't sure if that was as a means to view the storm more clearly, or if she was lost in thought to such an extent that she hadn't yet become aware of the darkness.

She straightened upon hearing his footfalls, smiling as he came to stand directly behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist.

"Hey," he spoke into her ear.

His body still carried the warmth of the shower and she allowed herself to relax against him.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much. Thanks." He inhaled the fragrance of her hair, resisting the impulse to trail his lips down her neck. It was becoming harder for him to keep himself in check as well, his mind continually drifting back to linger on the recollection of the smoothness of her skin and her responsiveness to his touch that morning.

"It's really coming down out there," he said, trying to force himself to stay in the present.

"Yeah. I was going to suggest ordering in, but I feel badly making a deliveryman go out in this."

He smiled against her. "I'll tip him well. We can order from the Chinese place down the street. That way he won't have to drive."

She nodded, trying to wrap her head around how much had changed since the last time they shared Chinese food in her apartment. She pivoted in his arms so that she could make eye contact, his arms loosening their hold, but remaining around her waist.

His eyes scanned her features, trying to get a sense of her state of mind, but the only thing that he could read clearly in her expression was fatigue.

Olivia made a mental note that this was becoming Elliot's first course of action lately, but tonight, instead of feeling frustrated by his protectiveness, she found herself welcoming it. He was standing before her in the USMC shirt and sweats, the concern in his eyes stemming from devotion, and had she been unable to glean this from facial expression alone, it was solidified by the feel of his arms encircling her waist.

"What?" he asked her, intrigued by the subtle smile that was gracing her lips.

She shrugged, her eyes staring at the logo on his chest and her hands curling around the lower edge of the fabric. "I was just thinking that I like the shirt better when it comes with you in it."

"We'll have to see about that, Benson," he replied with amusement. "I still haven't seen _you_ in it."

She breathed a laugh, dismissing the statement with a slight shake of her head. "Alright Stabler…let me order us some dinner."

He leaned into her, placing a kiss against her forehead, and then slipped his arms away, allowing her to go in search of her cell phone.

She paused to turn on a small table lamp as she crossed the room. It cast a soft amber glow that was sufficient to illuminate their surroundings while remaining dim enough not to completely obscure the city lights beyond the glass.

"You want the usual?" she asked, digging into her jacket pocket to retrieve her cell phone, then swiping it against the material of her sweat pants in attempts to rid it of the dampness along the exterior.

"Sure," he replied.

Olivia headed into the kitchen, scrolling through her contacts to try to find the number for the restaurant while simultaneously removing a couple of glasses from her cabinet and setting them down on the counter.

"There's not much in the fridge, but I think I have some sparkling water if you're thirsty?" she asked. "Might be another beer?"

"Water's fine, thanks."

Olivia found the contact for the Chinese place, her thumb poised to dial, when her phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. Her brow furrowed, not recognizing the number.

"Benson," she answered.

" _Detective Benson, this is Dr. Silverman. We met the other day?"_

"Yes, hello Doctor," she repeated for Elliot's benefit.

" _I'm sorry to call you at home."_

"No, it's fine. How is she doing?"

Olivia heard the hesitation on the other line, and she stopped breathing.

" _I have some difficult news,"_ Dr. Silverman began, exhaling heavily. _"Lara had what we call a 'rapid response' a short time ago."_

"Okay," Olivia murmured, trying not to jump to conclusions.

" _Her heart rate and oxygen saturations dropped suddenly, and we initiated a code blue."_

Elliot remained frozen in place, unable to hear the other end of the conversation, but immediately picking up on the change in Olivia's demeanor.

" _During the code, Lara went into cardiac arrest. We did everything possible to try to stabilize her and briefly got a rhythm back, but unfortunately, her heart stopped a second time and we weren't able to revive her."_

Elliot watched helplessly from afar as Olivia's face drained of all color, her hand darting out to brace herself on the countertop. She took a few shallow breaths, trying to force words to the surface.

" _I'_ _m so sorry,_ Dr. Silverman continued, responding to the silence.

"I don't understand," Olivia finally replied, her voice breaking. "She was doing so well."

" _I know… I wish I had a definitive answer for you."_

"She was fine when we left her," Olivia said huskily.

Elliot's stomach plummeted, a wave of nausea coursing through him.

" _This was very sudden. There are a number of complications that can occur after the kinds of injuries she sustained…"_

"She was fine," Olivia repeated, her voice barely audible.

Dr. Silverman continued to speak, but Olivia was no longer able to register her words. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, and all she could think about was the heart that was no longer beating in Lara's.

"… _extensive surgical intervention…"_

Olivia tried to take a breath, but it hurt to breathe.

"… _very fragile…"_

Lara would never breathe again.

"… _risk of sepsis…"_

She and Elliot had left her alone.

"… _possible pulmonary embolism…"_

Why did they leave her alone?

"… _autopsy to confirm…"_

Had she been conscious?

"… _NYPD discretion…"_

Had she been afraid?

Olivia's features contorted into an anguished expression - on the verge of losing control - but she fought against the surge of emotion with all that she had and resolutely locked it away again.

Elliot's heart broke, his expression mirroring her own.

" _Detective?"_

She held a palm against her forehead, shielding her eyes from view.

"Yeah," she rasped in acknowledgement. She made another attempt, trying to put voice behind the word. "Yes, I'm here."

" _I'm so sorry."_

"Was she… Was she aware?" she managed.

" _No,"_ Dr. Silverman responded firmly. _"The sedative we gave her earlier prevented that. For all intents and purposes, she fell asleep and never regained consciousness."_

Olivia stifled a sob, her hand quickly lowering from her forehead to cover her mouth. Lara had fallen asleep in her arms. She had tucked her in.

 _She looks peaceful now._ Elliot's words echoed in her ears.

Dr. Silverman's voice brought her back to the present. _"She didn't feel any pain. That I can assure you."_

"Thank you," Olivia heard herself respond - somehow flooded and detached all at once. "For all of your efforts."

" _In terms of protocol, I would imagine an autopsy is standard in the case of death resulting from non-accidental trauma?"_

"Yes," Olivia replied. "The perpetrator is deceased, but I believe it's still mandated."

It didn't sound like her voice. It sounded mechanical. Protocol was mechanical. Lara was now depersonalized.

A case number.

A statistic.

" _A beautiful, brave little girl!"_ her mind screamed.

Her features twisted again in grief. She balled her hand into a fist and squeezed her eyes shut, once again somehow finding the internal fortitude to shut herself down, but felt the last vestiges of her control rapidly disintegrating.

" _I'll make outreach to the Office of the Medical Examiner for direction. I can't thank you and Detective Stabler enough for your presence over the past several days."_

"It was nothing."

It was everything.

" _You laid the foundation for meaningful trauma work, and you helped keep her calm so that the staff could give her the best possible care. That's not 'nothing'."_

And none of it mattered anymore.

Nothing mattered.

" _Please extend our thanks to Detective Stabler…and our condolences."_

"I will."

She heard the click as the call disconnected, closing her eyes and keeping the phone against her ear for another moment or two as if the finality of all that had been lost could be undone by the ruse of continued connection.

Eventually she lowered her hand, allowing the phone to drop to the counter with a dull clunk.

Her chest rose and fell for a couple of beats before she choked out, "Dr. Silverman extends her condolences."

Her nostrils flared, her eyes welling with tears and her face flushing as she lost the battle at keeping the tattered pieces of her heart together. She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face, silently pouring from a wound that had no hope of being repaired.

Elliot watched as the jerking motion of her abdomen intensified, her shoulders heaving with each breath and her hands clenching into fists so tightly that her arm muscles were shaking.

The tremble of her chin became more pronounced, her head shaking back and forth as she silently grieved - the only disruption to the silence being the ragged attempts at breaths she occasionally forced into her lungs and the pressured exhales that followed.

The anguish in her expression was more than Elliot could bear, his eyes blinking reflexively against moisture that he refused to release.

Olivia's entire body was shaking now - grief and rage compiling inside of her until she was no longer able to contain them. Elliot saw it coming before she did, her mind too flooded with emotion to think beyond the loss.

It wasn't fair.

What was the fucking point?

She saw flashes of Nikolai. The gunshot. His laughter. The fear in Lara's wide green eyes as she gasped for breath.

She lashed out with an abrupt gesture of her arm, sending her cell phone clattering to the floor.

She remembered Lara's hospital PJs with the pattern of stars, moons, and bears. The feel of Lara's small hand nestled between her own. The sound of her voice.

 _Safe?_

"Goddammit!" she cried, picking up a glass and hurling it against the kitchen wall with as much force as she could muster, jagged shards exploding everywhere as it shattered from the impact. She picked up the second glass, and hurled that one at the wall too, barely aware of the sound of the shards falling as she collapsed to her knees. She bent forward until her head rested on the clenched fists that she pressed against the floor, her sobs escaping faster than she could lock them away.

Elliot was immediately there, his body curling over hers from behind, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her up off the ground and back against the wall of his chest.

She struggled against his hold for a moment, too distraught to process his actions.

He merely wrapped his arms around her more tightly, pinning her arms against her as he rocked her forward and backward in attempts to soothe her, their bodies a tangled mass where they remained on the kitchen floor.

"I'm not letting go, Liv," he choked out, his own sorrow pervading his tone as he continued to prevent her attempts to wrench herself out of his hold. He had told himself that he would never allow himself to be put in a position to use his strength against her - never again - but he didn't know how else to keep them together when all else was falling apart. "I'm sorry," he rasped as she continued to futilely twist and churn in attempts to extricate herself from his grasp. "I just… I _can't_ , Liv. I can't let you go. Not now." There was a tinge of desperation in his voice. He needed her to understand.

Her shoulders were jerking against him and she ultimately gave up the struggle and went limp in his arms.

He continued the rocking motion, struggling to keep himself together. He was fighting against conflicting impulses - trying to relax his hold so that it was no longer restrictive, yet simultaneously attempting to draw her against him more securely. His left arm slid lower to encircle her waist, his right arm protectively wrapping around her shoulders.

He had released her arms, but instead of resuming her efforts to curl over into herself, Olivia lifted both hands and clutched onto his forearm as if to ensure that he would not leave her.

"I've got you," he rasped. "I'm here."

Another wave of emotion struck Olivia at full force, flashes of memories assailing her without pause and causing her to sink even further into the depths of her grief. She couldn't find the space to breathe, her diaphragm spasming uncontrollably as she struggled to take in air.

Elliot's heart clenched as her crying intensified, his own breaths coming far and few between under the strain of retaining his control. She was inconsolable, and he was powerless to do anything to make it better. He was drowning in her tears, overcome by regret, his eyes burning and his jaw clenching as he felt as though he were failing her again. His expression contorted in agony as the thought repeated itself in his mind over and over again. All he could do was to continue to hold her as she wept.

He pressed his lips against her temple, trying to find the strength to speak. "I'm so sorry," he said brokenly, clearing his throat against the tightness as the words barely escaped. "If I could go back..." He stopped himself, the anguished tremble in his tone threatening to push him over the edge.

She clutched onto him more tightly and Elliot responded in kind, no longer making the effort to speak and focusing all of his energy on being a tangible source of safety and comfort that would prevent her from losing herself completely to her despair. He pivoted her in his arms, trying to augment the physical reassurance that she was seeking, and she met him halfway, shifting her weight to raise up enough to help him situate her over him. He pulled her into an embrace, her knees on either side of his as he continued to kneel on the floor, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other flush against her spine as he cradled the back of her head in his palm.

They clung to one another, eyes closed as a means to absorb the connection, Olivia's chest shaking against his and her hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt.

The storm outside was picking up again, gusts of wind propelling sheets of rain against the living room windows with a level of violent intensity that paralleled the tumult within.

Elliot's fingers wove more deeply into Olivia's hair, once again instinctively initiating a slight rocking motion in his attempts to soothe her. Intermittently he felt her body stiffen and her rate of breathing increase - vulnerability battling against the desire for control. In these moments he murmured words of comfort and reassurance into her ear, giving her the gentle push she needed to allow herself to remain open, and her sobs would resume once more.

Olivia thought back to the night of the undercover - to all of the sacrifices that had been made… To the trauma and loss of life that had resulted in the aftermath… To the friends and colleagues that had been harmed… To the little girl for whom they'd risked everything to protect…

A beautiful little girl who had almost had a chance at a life.

She took in a shuddering breath, her fists thumping weakly against Elliot's back. "It was all for nothing," she cried, turning into him so that her forehead pressed into the crook of his neck.

"No," he urged, shaking his head against her.

"All for nothing…" she repeated brokenly, her voice small.

Elliot pulled back, his hands curling around her upper arms as he gently but firmly guided her up so that he could see her. "Not for nothing, Liv," he countered with urgency in his expression. His eyes swept over her before holding her gaze, her reddened eyes locking onto his with so much pleading that he thought he would fall apart right there with her. He tenderly cupped her cheeks in his palms, this thumbs brushing away her tears as he shook his head again, his brows knit in concern. "Not for nothing." He bowed his head, kissing away the tears that continued to fall. He trailed kisses along her cheek, her eyelids, her brow, offering comfort in the only way in which he could, repeating the words over and over again in a hushed tone that she felt more than heard, his breath warm on her skin. She continued to cry softly through his caresses, her hands gripping onto his wrists in a desperate attempt to ground herself. She tilted her head back slightly and his lips found hers, intermittently brushing over hers or closing over hers more purposefully once more. When Elliot drew back, Olivia would move forward, a push and pull of the need to communicate their feelings and offer comfort to one another - love and regret and longing and sorrow flowing through each of them in every movement and every breath.

As Olivia's sobs began to subside, Elliot started to feel the mood shift. What had started out as an attempt to offer comfort was quickly transforming into something more passionate, and he pulled back in an effort to put the brakes on. He nuzzled her nose with his own, resting his forehead against hers, still framing her face in his hands. Yet almost as soon as he did so, Olivia captured his lips once more, Elliot's mouth opening in attempts to speak but the sound emerging as a moan as Olivia took the opportunity to deepen the contact. The kiss became more urgent, tongues colliding and hands tightening their grasp on one another, but Elliot once again tried to pull back. He ripped his mouth away, turning his head to the side, their breaths coming in pants as he tried to stop them.

"Liv, wait," he tried, as her mouth descended upon his pulse point, suckling gently and then trailing her lips along the column of his throat up to turn her attention to the sensitive spot beneath his ear. His mind was racing, trying to string together coherent thoughts while finding himself increasingly lost in the sensations she was causing. "I-it's too soon," he pleaded, the statement falling off into a groan as her mouth caressed the shell of his ear.

She shook her head against him, her lower body purposefully rocking against his.

His control slipped and he let out a strangled sound that was almost a growl, hauling her more tightly against him and his lips crashing over hers once more. He indulged himself in a moment of passion, rocking back against her as his hand tangled in her hair. She moaned into his mouth, and the sound snapped him back into reality, his hands taking hold of her head as he arched back and prevented her from leaning forward once more. "Liv, we…we can't."

Elliot's grip faltered as she slid herself against him again, and she turned her head over her shoulder to brush her lips against his palm.

"Please, El," she breathed.

His eyes darkened as he stared at her lips, his traitorous brain imagining what the feather-light sensation would bring should she turn her attentions elsewhere.

He shut his eyes and reopened them, trying to rein himself in, but he was met by the sight of Olivia's beautiful eyes - pupils large and black from desire and holding his with a near-hypnotic intensity. She continued to move subtly against him, her hands smoothing upwards along the planes of his chest and over his shoulders to curve around the back of his neck.

His physical response to her was quickly spiraling out of control, the tendon in his jaw clenching from the effort of his restraint as he took hold of her wrists and tried to enforce space once more.

" _Olivia."_

His voice was low and rough with arousal and a hint of warning, and Olivia's eyes welled with tears as she heard the seriousness of his intent. He was holding her practically at arm's length, curtailing her movements and severing the intimate connection that had been helping her escape from the reality of the present. He was not permitting her to move closer nor pull away, and the tears spilled out over her cheeks again as she felt _his_ loss in addition to Lara's.

She held his gaze, the emotions playing out over her features as her thoughts rapidly cycled through her head. She was crying silently before him, her eyebrows knit together in pain. When she spoke again, her voice was small; wounded.

"Elliot, _please_."

His heart clenched at the pleading in her tone. He wasn't sure if he had ever heard her sound so vulnerable.

His eyes softened, his expression transforming into one of compassion and concern. "Liv, I _love_ you," he replied, his voice wavering with emotion. "So much." He watched her chin quiver and her shoulders shake lightly as the tears continued to fall. "I don't want you to regret this. I would never forgive myself if-" He stopped abruptly, his voice failing him as he found himself on the verge of tears.

He took a few moments to regain his composure, visibly struggling to do so.

"I would never forgive myself if I made love to you now, and you woke up tomorrow feeling like I..." He squeezed his eyes shut, every word he spoke barely making it past the tightness in his throat.

"Elliot, I want this," Olivia said softly, dropping her gaze even though his eyes remained closed. He had loosened his grasp on her wrists, but she made no movement at all for fear of him letting go or pushing her away completely. "I've _been_ wanting this," she murmured even more quietly, the admission making her feel more vulnerable. She took a few shuddering breaths, sniffling softly as she stared at his chest. She felt his hands slide from her wrists down along her forearms, briefly letting go before coming to curve over her shoulders to frame her neck, his thumbs resting lightly on either side of the column of her throat.

She looked up at him then, tears clinging to her lashes, Elliot's blue eyes simultaneously stormy and safe.

"Everything is falling apart," her voice broke. "I don't…I don't want to think."

"Liv-"

"Elliot, please. I need you. I close my eyes and I see her…hear her…" Her chin quivered again and she stifled a sob. "N-not just her…" she admitted quietly, looking down at her hands. "I think of it all... Every moment. N-Nikolai. Petrov. The others." Her voice was barely audible, shame and pain etched in her features. "So many filthy hands have touched me. I just…I need you to take it all away. I want…I want to know what it would have been like if…if we…" she trailed off, ashamed of the pleading in her tone.

Elliot's breathing was coming more quickly, his muscles rigid as he fought against himself and against the conflict wrought by the images she was bringing to his mind. He knew what she was asking of him. She wanted to lose herself - to let the physical escape take hold and draw her away from the immensity of all that had been lost. He had sought the same release in the past. But what she didn't understand is that it would never just be physical between them. It would be everything. And that meant that the floodgates would be open to all emotions - the good and the bad.

He remained silent and Olivia took that to mean that he wasn't being swayed by her words. Her eyes remained closed, her chest spasming as she quietly wept before him, another wave of loss crashing over her. She had no defenses left to care about trying to lock the pain away to preserve any illusion of strength in front of him. Everything was stripped away, and what was left was raw and real and vulnerable. "Please, El," she repeated, barely intelligible through her sobs.

Elliot's hands tightened their grasp around her shoulders, his breaths coming forcefully as the weight of everything hit him at once.

It was too much.

Too much loss. Too much sadness. Something positive had to come from the ashes. Something good. Something pure.

That was the last thought either of them had before Elliot's hands tangled into her hair, tilting her head back to coax her to reopen her eyes. He saw everything. Grief and love. Trust and need. He saw all of her. All of them. Their history. All of the layers of emotion that had been building for years.

He closed the distance slowly. Mindfully. A moment of purposeful calm in the midst of the storm. His lips met hers gently, tenderly, his eyes holding hers as he pulled back ever so slightly, reading her; being with her in the moment. His lips found hers again, and again, slowly and lovingly brushing against hers with reverence and understanding in his gaze.

So many things were reflected back at him in Olivia's eyes.

No hesitancy or trepidation.

And when his lips met hers once more, they lost themselves in the depths of it all.

The kiss felt different this time. Whereas a few moments ago they had been consumed by a desperate, almost frantic level of need, it was as if the moment the mutual decision was made to move forward, calm had taken its place. The kiss was languid and deep, a gentle tide of give and take that was emanating from somewhere that transcended conscious intent. Neither was directing the pace. It was an all-encompassing level of intimacy and connectedness that drew each of them away from the present until all that remained was an overwhelming sense of safety and belonging and peace.

They were wrapped up in one another's arms, pressed closely against one another. Everything seemed heightened - every touch, every breath. It was simultaneously too much and not enough, a blur of emotion and desire, past and present that was so intense that it was causing them to move in slow motion.

Elliot felt the rise and fall of Olivia's chest against his, her breathing shaky, but gradually becoming more even as her crying abated. Their lips broke apart briefly as they each took a moment to collect themselves, and Elliot took the opportunity to look into her eyes once more. He needed to know with one hundred percent certainty that she was still with him. Had he seen any hesitation he would have stopped them no matter what, but she was returning his gaze with openness and devotion.

He cupped her cheek in his palm, lightly brushing a thumb along her brow, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as her hips shifted forward of their own accord.

Elliot exhaled sharply through parted lips, his other arm quickly wrapping around her waist and holding her still, his eyes dark with desire.

"Elliot..." she breathed, her head tipping forward to rest her forehead against his. She was doing her best to follow his wordless directive, trying to hold still, but she felt him pressed intimately against the crux of her thighs and she had never before felt such an overwhelming need to be closer to someone. "I've never..." she trailed off, trying to piece together coherent thoughts. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her hands smoothing along the planes of his back. "I can't stop..." she said, her hips rolling forward again despite the strength of his grasp.

He swallowed the groan that threatened to escape, his hands skimming down her torso and over the curve of her hips. His fingers curled around her, this time helping to facilitate her movements as she rocked against him once more. "Don't want you to..." he grated, "but not here, Liv."

He slid his hands up to her waist, holding her steady as he eased both of them up off of the kitchen floor. He held her closely against him as he stood, practically lifting her to her feet, and as soon as her bare feet met the floor, he was enfolding her into an embrace, his lips capturing hers and his arms lifting her up higher as her legs wrapped around his waist.

She moaned into his mouth as his hands drifted over her ass, helping to support her weight but simultaneously kneading her gently and causing her legs to tighten around him in response.

Elliot managed to safely navigate them around the broken glass, heading in the direction of her bedroom, but midway down the hall she intentionally rolled her hips against him and the pleasure that coursed through him was immediate and overwhelming. He faltered, pivoting her against the wall with a groan as he thrust against her, her head falling back as she gasped at the feel of his erection pressing against her core. He rocked forward once more, more slowly this time and she made a small sound, her hands reflexively gripping more tightly onto the back of his neck and her eyes drifting closed from the sensation.

Elliot dragged his lips over hers, trailing them over her cheekbone to hover over her ear. "Not here either, Liv," he rumbled, his voice low.

She shivered, her eyes reopening to regard him through heavy lids, her breathing shallow. Not trusting her voice, she offered him a slight nod, pulling her lower lip into her mouth.

He clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the seductive picture she painted and the feel of her body wrapped around his in order to keep his wits about him long enough to manage to traverse the remaining length of the hall.

After a couple more slight missteps, they'd crossed the threshold to her bedroom, pausing a foot or two away from the bed and trading gentle kisses as Olivia's legs slid down his thighs to find solid ground once more.

She stood before him in the darkened room, any sounds from the city muted by the rain pattering insistently against the glass. Her lips were parted and slightly swollen from his attention, her hair falling around her face in gentle waves, and Elliot was struck by her beauty. Their eyes were locked on one another's, Olivia's palms resting against his chest, and they lingered in the moment, each struggling to process the myriad emotions brought about by the recognition of all that had led them to this point.

While much of the room was cloaked in shadow, the illumination of the city lights beyond the glass created patterns of light that shifted as the raindrops collected to run down the windowpanes. In the stillness of the moment, the light drew attention to the emotion contained behind two sets of shining eyes. _This_ was the way their story should have unfolded - in this place of safety and calm.

Elliot tenderly brushed the hair back from her face, his expression a mixture of love and regret. "I'm so sorry, Liv," he said, his voice gravelly, "I wish..." he trailed off, not quite sure how to put everything into words.

He wished he'd known all that was to transpire at the club that night. He wished he could have protected her, and Lara. He wished that he could have made love to her for their first time, in private, instead of having caused her such harm.

Olivia shook her head, compassion and understanding in her gaze. "We didn't know," she said softly. "And I think...I think we might not be here if..." If they hadn't caught the case - if they hadn't been forced to cross boundaries, become vulnerable, confront demons and the complicated layers of their past - they might never have arrived at this point.

Elliot mulled over her words, wondering what their trajectory would have looked like in the absence of the case. "I think..." he paused, a broader truth asserting itself in his mind. He spoke quietly, tentatively putting voice to their past. "I think we've always been here, Liv."

They'd fought against their feelings for years - fought to protect his marriage and, by extension, their partnership. At times this had meant pushing each other away, a defense mechanism that reared its head when they became too close or things became too complicated. Yet their feelings had always been there.

Olivia was caught off guard by the pang of emotion that gripped her upon hearing his words. She dropped her gaze to focus on his chest, trying to rework the narrative that she had etched in her mind for years. It hadn't been one-sided. Elliot was telling her more in that one sentence than anything ever could.

Elliot's brow furrowed slightly in discernment, his right hand weaving more deeply into her hair as his left traced circles along her lower back. "Are you going to tell me I'm wrong?" he nudged gently, his voice low.

She looked up at him once more, and when their eyes met, the strength of their connection took her breath away. "No," she replied huskily.

She rose up on the balls of her feet to kiss him gently - more of a caress than a kiss, Elliot's hand slipping beneath her shirt to press against the warm skin of her lower back.

She exhaled against his lips, her palms sliding along the planes of his chest as his hand started a slow path upward along her spine. Once again, she was struck by the intensity of her reaction to his touch. Her fingertips gripped onto him reflexively as her head tipped forward against his again in attempts to collect herself.

Elliot felt her trembling slightly and he pulled back just far enough to look into her eyes, slowly slipping his right hand from her hair to caress her cheek and the line of her jaw. There was electricity in the air, as if the depth of their desire and devotion to one another had transformed into something palpable. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes dark and his movements restrained so as not to frighten her by the intensity of his need for her.

His eyes held hers as his hand drifted lower, grazing her shoulder, the bare skin of the underside of her arm, coming to rest on her waist as his left skimmed back down her spine. His hands lingered along the dips of her waist, gently holding her as his thumbs lightly stroked her abdomen. His head dipped forward, his lips just barely dragging along hers. His grip reflexively tightened around her and he forced himself to relax his hold again, his fingers tracing the edge of her sweats before curling around the hem of her shirt.

He stopped again, his jaw clenching and forehead resting against hers as his knuckles lightly brushed against the warmth of her skin. His lazy exploration had informed him that she wasn't wearing a bra beneath her shirt, not having bothered with it after her shower, and it was taking every last ounce of his restraint to be mindful of what it would mean for them if he were to keep moving forward.

Her breaths were coming in shallow exhales, her hands motionless against his chest.

"Tell me 'yes', Liv," he said, his voice low and rough from the effort of keeping himself in check.

She swallowed, momentarily overwhelmed by the recognition that this was, in fact, real. It felt as if it were a waking dream. The significance of what they were embarking on hit her at full force. This was Elliot standing before her. Not an undercover. Not pretend.

She nuzzled her nose against his, her hands sliding upward to curl around the back of his neck.

"Yes," she breathed.

Elliot let out a ragged breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, his lips brushing over hers in response.

She was still trembling slightly when he pulled back, their eyes locking onto one another's as his hands slowly dragged upwards, his knuckles caressing every millimeter of exposed skin as he lifted the shirt from the frame of her body. When he reached her ribcage, she slid her hands from the back of his neck, raising her arms to allow him to remove it the rest of the way.

Neither knew where the garment fell. Olivia stood before him in the moonlight, the patterns of light and shadow dancing along her skin as the rain continued to fall. She stood there quietly, her chest rising and falling quickly as she watched Elliot's eyes drift over her body. He had stilled almost completely, his expression somehow both open and inscrutable all at once. He had seen her before - at the club, in the aftermath - but each time had tried not to let his eyes linger. A long moment passed before he reached for her, his hands reverently tracing the outline of her shoulders, trailing down her arms as his thumbs skimmed her torso.

When his hands met her hips, his fingers curled around her, his palms slowly sliding up the frame of her body, over the dip of her waist, along her ribcage, the heels of his hands just barely grazing the sides of her breasts before his palms smoothed downward once more.

She was so beautiful.

"I don't have words, Liv," he murmured, his throat choked with emotion. His eyes lifted to meet hers again, trying to convey the layers of all that he was thinking and feeling by means of his gaze.

His thumbs stroked her skin, his head bowing to kiss her softly, every touch an outpouring of his love for her.

She responded in kind, her hands lifting to lightly run along his forearms and up over his biceps. When she reached his upper arms, she carefully avoided putting pressure on the bandage concealing the still-healing bullet wound, wrapping her arms further around him so that her hands slid over his shoulder blades and down his back. She trailed her lips along his jaw, and felt the tendon flex beneath her as her hands slipped underneath the fabric of his shirt to smooth upwards, reveling in the warmth of his skin. She pulled back to meet his heated gaze, watching as he visibly struggled to hold still, his grasp on her hips tightening as her nails lightly raked against him on the way back down.

Not once severing their gaze, her hands drifted to his abdomen, starting to collect his shirt with her arms as her palms slid up again. His hands released her then, helping her pull the shirt over head and tossing it to the side.

Olivia drew her lower lip into her mouth as she allowed herself to look at him - truly look at him - for the first time. The combination of light and shadow drew attention to the outline of the muscles of his arms, his chest, his abdomen. She had a brief flash of him hovering above her at the club, and remembered the moment that she had realized the extent of his strength as the same sculpted muscles had come into view. She had been too frightened to piece together much else in that moment, unable to fully recognize the physical beauty he possessed as it was all but obliterated by the feel of Nikolai's gun pressed against her skull and her frantic efforts to try to yank her wrists from Elliot's hold.

Now, Elliot's body language was relaxed, his arms at his sides, allowing Olivia the time to look and to process the thoughts sifting through her mind.

She reached for him, her palms smoothing over his chest and her fingers tracing the outline of the muscles in his torso, looking up at him as her touch drifted lower along the dips in his pelvis to the point that they disappeared from view as they met the waistband of his sweats. His fists clenched in an effort to hold still, his eyes drifting closed and his head tipping back slightly as he worked to stay disciplined enough not to completely ravage her in that instant.

Her eyes darkened from want, suddenly feeling powerful in that moment despite the recollection of the power dynamics that had so traumatically played themselves out the night of the undercover. Her hands lifted again, hovering above him for a moment as she tried to reconcile the conflicting thoughts in her mind.

Elliot's eyes opened, catching sight of the somewhat haunted look in her eyes as she stared at his chest. He waited for her, quietly and carefully reaching up to cup her cheek in his palm. His touch was feather-light as his thumb brushed along what he knew to be a cluster of still-healing bruises.

She looked up at him then, a complicated mixture of heat and trepidation in her gaze.

"Floodgates open," Elliot murmured knowingly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Perhaps it was the pure understanding in his expression, or the manner in which his words so succinctly summarized the confused spiral of memories and emotions in which she found herself, but she felt the prick of tears behind her eyes. She didn't want to feel the conflict. Didn't want the ghosts to be in that room.

Her hands shook and she placed them against his skin again. She wanted to stay here with him in the present.

Elliot took a small step closer to her, looking between her eyes with compassion and regret in his expression, his left arm gently wrapping around her and coaxing her the rest of the way into his arms. She moved into him without hesitation, her body and mind willingly seeking the reassurance of his embrace. He tucked his chin over her shoulder, stroking her hair, their chests flush against one another and Olivia's head turning into his neck as if to shut out all else other than the feel of his warmth, the rhythm of his breath, and the thrum of his pulse.

He shifted, his forearm resting in the hollow between her shoulder blades and his palm flattening along her upper back. His fingers gently stroked the nape of her neck, his mouth moving to hover over her ear.

"You are loved beyond measure," he breathed, his softly spoken words washing over her and causing her to cling to him more tightly. He dragged his mouth along the shell of her ear, a shiver of pleasure coursing down her spine. "You're safe… Here, in this space, it's just you and me…and the rain," he added, a smile touching his lips.

Olivia breathed a hint of a laugh, rubbing her cheek along the column of his throat and her lips against the dip of his collarbone.

"You can feel everything, Liv," he said, his tone falling serious once more. He didn't want her to hold anything back. He believed more than ever that the only way to move past the trauma was to acknowledge the parts that neither of them wanted to remember.

Her blinks increased, stubborn tears escaping the confines of her lids to cling to her lashes, brushing against him and betraying her fragility.

"You can ask for anything." He ran his fingers through her hair; his other hand delicately tracing the outline of her shoulder blades.

She turned into him again, brushing her lips against his pulse point, her hands skimming over the softness of his skin.

"There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you." He pulled back, framing her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the traces of moisture from beneath her lower lids. "Anything you need…"

Olivia clutched onto his shoulders, looking up at him with pain and longing and love.

"Anything at all…is yours." He managed to complete the thought, but the intensity of her gaze was burning through him, her dark eyes mesmerizing him by virtue of how open she was allowing herself to be in his presence.

Her hands slipped upwards, guiding his head toward her as she rose up to meet him halfway, kissing him slowly and deeply, stealing his breath as he had hers so many times of late. His arms wrapped around her more securely and Olivia was struck by the feeling of safety it afforded her. His strength in that moment was protective. It was a manifestation of everything that Elliot was, standing in stark contrast to everything that he had been forced to put her through at the club.

Her mind continued to drift in and out of the present to recall glimpses of the past, unable to prevent herself from going to the darker places as well as those which gave her comfort. She thought of all of the times he had protected her in the field. She thought of his tenderness and attentiveness in the aftermath of all that they had weathered. She thought back to the night they had taken the photographs, when the assault they were simulating weighed heavily upon them, foreshadowing the trauma to come. She hadn't understood the fear that had insinuated itself in her mind that night. She had been safe. There was no one in the world she trusted more. But on some level, a deeper part of her began to recognize for the first time the extent of the danger of the undercover operation they were moving toward, and how little control she would have. The flashback to her assault at Sealview had left her feeling vulnerable, but as the night progressed, that wasn't the root of her fear. What had asserted itself in her awareness that night was far more complicated. She had pushed it down, rationalized it away, but beyond the shadow of a doubt, she had _known_. If they hadn't been pretending - if the struggle had been real, she wouldn't have been able to stop him...just like she wouldn't have been able to stop Harris.

And then two nights later she had been forced to confront her worst fear, and though it was Elliot, the nightmare had become real.

Flashes of the undercover began to flood her mind, becoming more insistent the more she tried to lock them away. She remembered the fear and the panic and the shame. She remembered the inner turmoil she'd felt at the fact that the man she loved was simultaneously there, but not there; the conflict that she'd felt at wanting him so badly, even then. Even in that hell.

She'd wanted the protector that was here with her now, but instead had to cope with the abuser he'd been forced to become. Perhaps most confusingly, his abuse had been protective. He'd been trying to get them out of there alive. All to reach a child who was not to survive. She held onto him even more tightly, her mind spiraling faster and faster, kissing him with an urgency that was borne from an attempt to outrun her thoughts.

Elliot felt the tremors in her body, the shift in her breathing, the tears she was so desperately trying to conceal, and he pulled back from their kiss, just far enough to try to make eye contact, his embrace steady and warm. "Look at me, Liv," he coaxed.

Her chest jerked against him, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Shh, look at me."

She took in a few shaky breaths and opened her eyes.

He offered her a sad smile, remorse etched in his features. "Stay with me." It was half a plea, half a question, his hands slowly smoothing over the expanse of her back in his attempts to soothe her.

She nodded back at him, not trusting her voice, heartache dueling with need.

" _This_ is me, Liv," he said, his voice thick with emotion, the memories of his treatment of her playing out behind his eyes as vividly as those in her mind. "Everything I said… Everything I put you through…I can't take it back." He brushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead, his eyes glistening. "But that wasn't me, Liv."

"I know that," she replied brokenly, once again feeling as though she were inadvertently hurting him by the extent to which she was haunted by the events that had taken place in that room. She lifted her right hand from his shoulder, trailing her fingertips along his brow, then placed her palm to his cheek as she looked back and forth between his tortured blue eyes. She slowly closed the distance, dragging her lips across his, their breath mingling as her fingers ran along the angle of his jaw, the column of his throat, her hand ultimately stilling and flattening over his heart. She continued to slowly and hypnotically brush her lips against his as he responded in kind, his arms still wrapped around her although he remained perfectly still, all else fading from his awareness besides her presence and the magnetic pull that was steadily building between them. Eventually she tilted her head back to look in his eyes once more. "You're here now," she breathed seductively, her hands commencing a slow but deliberate path down his torso.

Elliot's breath hitched, his eyes holding hers as her fingers languidly traced the edge of his sweats. "I'm here now," he echoed, nodding almost imperceptibly as his own hands started to drift along her spine once more.

She dragged her gaze down his torso and back up again, her fingers closing around the drawstring before pausing as a means to communicate her intent. His chest was rising and falling more noticeably with anticipation, his eyes dark and his jaw flexing from restraint. She loosened the knot, slowly lowering the cotton down his thighs before letting the material fall.

He stepped out of them as they hit the ground, standing before her in his boxers and watching as her focus drifted over his body.

He waited a moment before allowing his hands to smooth over the curve of her waist, coming to rest on her hips. His thumbs stroked her abdomen, just barely dipping beneath the waistband of her own sweats, giving her time.

Her eyes drifted back up to his, offering him a slight nod.

He eased the material over her hips, the backs of his fingers skimming down the outside of her thighs. Olivia rested her palms against him to steady herself as she lifted each leg to help him as he pulled them away, and then all that remained was a delicate barrier of black satin.

Elliot ran his hands up along her outer thighs, over the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist and torso. "You are so incredibly beautiful, Liv" he murmured, his eyes following the path of his hands. This time, when he reached the top of her ribcage, he couldn't help but skim his thumbs over the curve of her breasts, gently teasing her nipples with the slightest amount of pressure.

Her breathing quickened, her lips parting from the sensation.

He made himself slide his hands lower again, holding her, thumbs caressing her sides. "It killed me not to be able to tell you that before, when we…" he trailed off. He didn't want to bring them back there again.

"I know," she said gently.

His eyes clouded somewhat in recollection, a flash of pain flitting across his features as he remembered the cold and demeaning words he'd hurled at her.

"El, I _know_ ," she said, placing a palm against his cheek. She kissed him then, trying to pull him away from his thoughts. Their lips met again, and again, her hands sliding down and around his torso to pull him more closely against her. She took a small step forward to close the distance completely, the entire length of her body pressing against his, and she felt the moment that his mind let go, thoughts eclipsed by feeling. His mouth closed over hers more hungrily, his arms wrapping around her in an almost crushing embrace. She gasped at the feel of him, the contact more intimate now that they had divested another layer of clothing, and the combination of the evidence of his desire and her awareness of her need was causing an ache for him that was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

She shifted one of her thighs between his, catching him off guard and swallowing his moan as she slid herself against him.

They were losing themselves in the moment, unconsciously seeking greater closeness while Elliot periodically would catch himself and try to slow things down, his hands gripping onto her waist, hips, shoulders, even fisting behind her into the air, anything to prevent himself from escalating things too quickly.

Olivia's mouth lifted from his as they panted for breath, her lips slowly and purposefully dragging along his cheek until they found his ear.

"Elliot," she said breathlessly, her lower body rocking against his.

"Yeah," he rasped, every muscle in his body tense as he fought to retain his control.

" _Touch_ me."

Elliot let out a strangled utterance as the heat of her breath and the heat behind her words registered in his mind and immediately sent a rush of blood south.

His left forearm was holding her flush against him where it rested between her shoulder blades, his hand woven into her hair, but at her words, he allowed himself to slide his free hand over the curve of her ass, slowly exploring her body as another invisible boundary fell away. The satin of her underwear and the smoothness of her skin were almost indistinguishable from one another, and his breath came in heavy exhales against her cheek as he slid his palm lower to lift her leg beneath her thigh. He held her there, rocking forward, the change in position causing him to press against her even more intimately.

Her head immediately tipped forward, her mouth pressing against his shoulder and a soft moan escaping her lips at the pleasure that shot through her at the sensation.

He moved against her again, but this time as he did so, his hand slid around the base of her thigh to trail his fingertips along her satin-covered core.

Her hips bucked reflexively against him, her arms grasping onto him more tightly, holding her breath for lack of an ability to remember how to take in air.

He held her there, lightly stroking her through the thin fabric as she clutched onto him in her embrace, occasionally rocking forward or feeling her do the same, small utterances of pleasure escaping her lips.

For several moments, neither of them were able to process more than the immediate sensations brought about by their actions, overwhelmed by the heady realization that they were in _each other's_ arms. The fantasy had become real. It was _her_ heat that met his fingertips. _His_ touch that was causing the pleasure to build in her core. They had almost frozen in place with the exception of the subtle movements of their hips and Elliot's gentle caresses, overcome by the significance of what was evolving between them.

He felt her trembling against him; her head turning into him to seek the comfort of the crook of his neck.

"Elliot," she exhaled shakily, trying to cling to him even more tightly.

He stilled the movement of his fingers, understanding the fear that had gripped her at the intensity of their response to one another. "I've got you," he rumbled into her ear, his hand massaging her hip.

They held one another, listening to the sound of their breaths and the rain, taking a moment to collect themselves.

Elliot was the first to move, his hand smoothing over the frame of her body. He lifted her into his arms, looking between her eyes before gently brushing his lips over hers. He pulled back slightly, holding her gaze as he took the last steps toward the bed, waiting for her nod before easing both of them down onto the mattress. Olivia's legs slipped from around his waist as he lay her down, her hands still resting against his shoulders as she looked up at him, trust and love in her expression despite the hint of nervousness in her eyes.

Elliot's arms were braced on either side of her, holding himself up and off of her, as they acclimated to the change. While his impulse had been to give her time - to make sure that she felt safe and loved and calm, he realized in that moment that _he_ needed the time. Perhaps it was the position of their bodies, or the fact that they were inching closer to crossing the line, but as he hovered above her, all of the memories he was hoping to push aside flooded his mind.

They played themselves out behind his eyes as if he were back in that room. He remembered the forceful way he had thrown her onto the mattress; her panicked attempts to scramble away; the fear and pain in her eyes as he flipped her over and pinned her down.

 _No! Let me go!_

He swallowed, trying not to let his expression betray the workings of his mind. "You okay?" he asked her, his voice rough.

She nodded up at him, her hands smoothing over his shoulders and down his arms before coming to rest on either side of her pillow.

The slight glimmer of light that was able to filter through the windows was falling across her face and torso, drawing attention to the depth of emotion in her eyes and the rise and fall of her chest as she lay beneath him.

He balanced his weight on his left arm, lifting his right to caress her cheek. As his gaze drifted over her, he was unable to completely hide the traces of sadness in his expression as his fingers trailed over the lingering marks from her assault that night. He gently traced them as if hoping to erase them by the tenderness with which he was able to treat her now, his fingers brushing over the marks on her upper arm, the remnants of bruises along the column of her throat, and ever so gently over the bruising on her left breast.

Olivia's eyebrows knit together in pain. "Please don't," she breathed. "Please just pretend you can't see them."

"I can't, Liv." He shook his head, his eyes full of remorse. "Because every one of them reminds me of how close I came to losing you." His mind was still conjuring up flash after flash of the events of that evening - the harm inflicted by him, by Nikolai and his men. He remembered the way time had stood still when Nikolai had her in the stranglehold, threatening to take her life by stealing her air as much as he was threatening to end it with a bullet. So many close calls… So many ways in which he had failed her.

She heard the waver in his tone; saw the distant look in his eyes as he re-lived the moments she was trying desperately to forget. Her eyes immediately welled with tears, her tenuous grasp on her emotions crumbling and giving way to the grief lying just beneath the surface. "I don't want to think, Elliot," she said brokenly.

He regarded her with empathy and sadness and love, struggling as much as she was not to fall apart. "I know, Liv. But everything that led us here matters."

He bent his head to brush his lips over the tears that were quietly escaping, trailing gentle kisses along the line of her jaw and down the column of her throat. As with the touch of his fingers a moment prior, he brushed his lips lightly along the marks there that lingered from Nikolai's strangulation attempt, or from the times he, himself, had gripped her by the throat, or both. Hidden from view, he blinked back his own tears. He'd hurt her in so many ways - physically, emotionally. He had tried to hold himself back - to attenuate the actual amount of force he was putting behind actions that he was making to look forceful, but it hadn't been enough…and at a certain point he hadn't been able to mitigate it for fear of Nikolai seeing through the ruse.

Elliot trailed his lips lower, dragging lightly over the curve of her breast, kissing every inch of her softly and with so much care that it truly felt to each of them as though his touch might be healing after all. He turned his attention to the other side, chancing more pressure as he placed open-mouthed kisses over her, his lips and tongue teasing her nipple into a taut peak as she arched into his mouth.

He pushed himself back as he continued his downward path, his gentle touch and warmth of his breath caressing the indentation of her ribcage, the smoothness of her abdomen. He was paying attention to every hitch of her breathing and shift of her muscles beneath him, wanting to follow her cues. When he reached her pelvis, he paused at her quick intake of breath, looking up at her as he idly dragged his lips back and forth over her skin. Her eyes were hooded as she looked down at him, and he maintained eye contact as he slowly raised himself up, kneeling between her legs as his hands smoothed over her, his fingers lightly tracing the line on her lower abdomen where satin met skin.

Elliot quietly studied her, searching for signs to stop or to continue. Her breathing was rapid, but her gaze was sure, and if he'd had any question, it was answered by her slight nod.

He slowly slid his hands down over her thighs and back up again, his fingers hooking beneath the satin as he delicately lowered the remaining garment, her hips lifting to help him as he removed it the rest of the way.

He knelt above her, looking down at the woman before him, completely awed by the vision she presented. She was stunning.

Olivia was trying to regulate her breathing, her heart pounding as she watched his gaze drift over her. She felt simultaneously safe and exposed, protected and vulnerable, and she clutched onto the sheet beneath her to prevent her hands from shaking. She drew her lower lip into her mouth, the action stemming from a combination of nerves and anticipation.

Elliot forced himself to drag his gaze away from her body to meet her eyes, wanting to check in with her, although the words evaded him once again. "I wish… I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Liv," he said reverently, his left hand curved comfortingly over her shin as the knuckles of his right hand slowly trailed up the inside of her opposite thigh. She shivered, tensing somewhat, and he picked up on it and drew himself up until they were face to face again, still hovering above her to control the pace. He cupped her cheek in his palm, kissing her softly as her hands raised to skim along his torso. "You're beyond beautiful, Benson," he whispered against her mouth, his eyes holding hers.

Olivia saw the love in his expression, the desire, and when he captured her lips again she deepened the kiss, her hands smoothing upward along the planes of his back. He was holding himself up and off of her, sheltering her body with his own, and she realized that he was giving her a moment that she hadn't realized she'd needed. She no longer felt vulnerable or exposed, just loved and protected.

They drew apart just enough to catch their breath, their eyes locked on one another's. The motion of Olivia's hands had slowed against his back, her touch lightening and causing goosebumps to stand out along his skin. His eyes darkened, his thumb tracing her lips and his fingers trailing down her cheek to slide beneath her jaw. "Liv?" he rasped.

"Yeah?"

"Can I touch you?"

Her hands gripped onto him more tightly at his words, her breathing quickening and her voice barely more than a whisper. "Yes."

If it were possible, time seemed to move even more slowly, several long moments going by before his hand began to drift down the frame of her body. He never severed their gaze, looking deeply into her eyes, his exhales coming through parted lips as her chest rose and fell shakily beneath him.

The heat of his palm was searing her skin, running down her side, over her hip, slipping beneath her to caress the back of her thigh before dragging forward, his thumb gently massaging her inner thigh as he reversed course and started a slow path upward once more. When he reached the juncture of her thigh and pelvis he paused, his thumb lightly stroking the sensitive skin above and below.

Olivia had stilled again, breath held as she waited for his next move, her eyes unblinking as she looked up at him, and then his hand rotated between them, his fingers lightly trailing over her center.

She gasped, so overcome with emotion and sensation that she could only cling to him as he stroked her, his touch gradually deepening as he gently opened her to him.

Elliot's breathing was ragged. She was so wet, his fingers easily slipping along her folds. Once again he remembered the first time he had touched her the night of the undercover - the way in which she had tried to offer her indirect consent to alleviate his guilt. He was as powerless at controlling his physical response to her then as he was now, overcome by the feel of her and the knowledge that she was trusting him with this part of herself.

Elliot was going slowly, reveling in the ability to take the time to feel her, to discover what touch gave her the most pleasure. He hadn't been able to do anything mindfully in that room. His actions had been fueled by fear for her safety - fear of what Nikolai had the power to do. When he had touched her, it was with the aim of bringing her over the edge as quickly as possible so that they'd be one step closer to freedom.

Now, he continued a rhythm of slow gentle strokes, his middle finger flattening against her, dragging through her wetness before lightly stroking her clit with every pass, his other fingers skimming along her outer folds. Her lower body was moving subtly against his hand, her eyes drifting closed and lips parting in another quiet gasp as his finger pressed inward, almost dipping inside of her but still teasing her opening. He lingered there, watching her reactions to his touch play out over her features, her head tipping back slightly as she lost herself to the sensations.

He brushed his lips against hers, feeling her shallow exhales fall across him. "Open your eyes, Liv," he said softly, his tone matching the quiet intimacy of the moment, and when her eyes fluttered open to find his, his touch deepened, pressing inward and slowly sliding into her warm depths for what felt like the first time. In all of the ways that mattered, it was.

Olivia moaned softly as he caressed her upper wall, stroking her gently before adding another finger, her hips arching up as he penetrated her more deeply. He massaged her lightly with the heel of his hand, keeping his fingers deeply inside of her and feeling her tighten around him at his subtle movements within.

Olivia felt the tension building in her core, Elliot's touch increasingly pulling her away from the present. She couldn't help but close her eyes again, overwhelmed by the magnitude of all that she was thinking and feeling at once. She clung to him almost desperately, never more aware of her need for him than she was in that moment - and with that thought, the vulnerability was back with a vengeance. She couldn't lose him. She wouldn't survive it. The thought insinuated itself in her mind, weaving its way into an anxious spiral that made her want to re-erect the protective defenses that would safeguard her heart, but it was too late. She was as powerless to control her emotional response to him as she was her body's response to his touch, the sounds of pleasure he was eliciting from her mixing with whimpers that were emerging from a sudden acknowledgement of her deep-rooted fear.

Elliot felt her trembling against him; heard the tinge of panic in her utterances that she was trying to conceal. Physically, he could feel her getting closer and closer to the edge, the movements of her lower body getting more pronounced, her breathing more rapid. Her inner muscles were clamping around him, holding him in place and preventing him from withdrawing even if he'd tried. Emotionally, he sought to offer comfort for whatever it was that was triggering her renewed distress. He continued his gentle movements within her, but slowed his pace, bowing his head to brush his lips against hers. His tongue sought entrance, kissing her lovingly before bringing his mouth to hover over her ear, his cheek grazing hers. "You're safe, Liv," he murmured, trying to figure out the source of her fear. "I've got you... I'm here."

Her arms tightened around him as those final words fell from his lips and he knew he'd found it. His heart broke at the thought that even now, even here, she was afraid that someday he would change his mind...that he would someday walk away.

"I'm here, Liv," he repeated, not making any attempt to hide the emotion in his softly spoken words. "I'm never letting go."

Olivia took in a shaky breath, trying to focus on him, on the moment, on his words. He continued to speak words of reassurance into her ear, offering them bit by bit as the motion of his hand brought her closer to the brink. _Never letting go...I'm yours._ The words and the sensations began to wash over her more and more, eclipsing any possibility of her own thoughts taking hold. _Love you so much, Liv._ She could no longer think, only feel. Every stroke of his fingers was causing pleasure to flood through her as his words and his warmth soothed her, coaxing her further away from herself. _I've got you...I'm here..._ She had never trusted someone enough to fully let herself go, never felt safe enough to fall. _I won't hurt you..._ She was giving him all of herself, felt the connection to him deepening even as she drifted away. _Come for me, Liv..._ Moans were falling from her mouth but she couldn't hear them, her body arching and rocking into his palm, and when she shattered, the only thing she could see was him.

"...so beautiful..." was the first thing that registered as she slowly regained her awareness.

Elliot had kept his fingers embedded within her, cupping her gently as she gradually came down, but at some point he had carefully released her, shifting his weight onto his left side and pulling her into his arms. She was trying to remember when he had done so, but her mind was still floating somewhere beyond the present, her body still humming in the afterglow of her release. His hand was running soothingly up and down her spine, his lips brushing against her forehead as he offered hushed whispers of reassurance and adoration.

Olivia's breathing was becoming more even, her fingers beginning to lightly stroke his skin and her lips idly dragging along his neck. Elliot smiled against her, recognizing her return to herself and placing a more purposeful kiss against her hairline. She was still holding onto him but her body was relaxed, and Elliot took this as a sign that, for the moment, she was feeling secure.

He thought back to the night of the undercover - to all of the boundaries that they had crossed without having had sufficient time to prepare mentally or emotionally for the acts themselves, let alone the fallout. In the days leading up to the undercover, they had talked about their fear of the unknown, but neither of them had fully believed that things would play out to the extent to which they had. At the time, neither of them had been ready to risk their partnership by admitting the depth of the feelings they had for one another. Not prior. Not until the aftermath, when they'd had no choice but to confront the truth. It was yet another of Elliot's biggest regrets. Olivia had been trapped in that room, enduring all that she had, and all the while thinking that her feelings weren't reciprocated. His embrace strengthened at the thought, praying that his actions in the present could gradually obscure the memories of his treatment of her that night. He was infinitely grateful that he was able to hold her now; to be tender with her. He wanted to give her all of the things that had been stolen from her.

He pulled back enough to meet her gaze, layers of emotion in his eyes. "I love you," he murmured.

He was sheltering her with his body, his palm gently curved around her cheek, and Olivia had never felt more protected. She looked up at him, quietly processing the subtle shift that had already occurred between them following their first true intimate moment - one free from coercion and fear. At the club, she had felt powerless and frightened and exposed. She had tried to shut out all else to imagine them somewhere safe; somewhere private, but nothing could transport her away from the terror of the moment. Now, lying before him, she was filled with a sense of calm that radiated inward and began to heal some of the trauma that had once gripped her heart. She opened her mouth to respond, no longer afraid to voice the words, but before she could do so his mouth closed over hers, kissing her slowly and deeply as he tried to convey all of the feelings that he was struggling to put into words.

Olivia bit back a moan, unprepared for her body's response to his touch. Her mind immediately conjured up recollections of his fingers inside of her, the stroke of his tongue evocative of the movements he'd made within her, and she was lost. Everything felt heightened now - an electricity flowing through them and building up faster than before. She arched into his touch, her breasts pressing against the planes of his chest, and her thigh slipping further between his own as she silently invited him to seek some relief. He groaned, his hips rocking forward as he wrapped her up more fiercely into his arms. Bit by bit Elliot was losing his control, restraint increasingly giving way to passion. She was kissing him back just as hungrily, her hands roaming over his back and her arms tightening around him as she tried to somehow pull him even more closely to her. Nothing was enough. She needed all of him.

Her hands smoothed down his body, over his lower back and the curve of his ass. She felt his hips buck forward at the contact, another strangled utterance escaping him, muffled by the fusion of their mouths. She lingered there, her hands continuing to caress him, feeling his muscles flex against her as he responded to her touch. She hadn't been able to explore his body either that night at the club. In the rare moments when Elliot hadn't been restraining her, she'd been expected to try to scramble away. Their roles had dictated the way in which the encounter was to unfold, and there had been no allowance for Olivia's participation, just her submission. Now, everything had transformed into the way things should have been. She was allowed to touch; allowed to explore. Her touch lightened, her right hand trailing even lower, moving inward until she was cupping him from behind.

Elliot groaned, another rush of blood making him almost painfully hard, his hips reflexively thrusting against her. He ripped his mouth from hers, panting for breath, his forehead resting against her. "God, Liv," he rasped as she gently massaged him with the slightest touch. Her other hand continued to move in slow circles over his ass, her nails lightly raking over him through the fabric of his boxers and leaving pleasurable tingles in their wake.

"Okay?" she asked him softly, aware of the tension in his body, his pressured exhales and the way that he had almost frozen in place but for occasional small movements of his hips against her when he couldn't hold himself together any longer.

"Yeah I... _God_." He couldn't string together coherent thoughts, another wave of pleasure flooding him as she intentionally rocked her own hips forward so that her thigh slid against him once more.

Olivia stilled then, giving him a moment, but still cupping him lightly in her palm. The connection of their bodies wouldn't permit her to touch his length. Not yet.

She swallowed at the recognition that the final barrier of clothing would soon be stripped away - that they were really _here._

The stillness momentarily drew her attention to the sound of the rain again, the steady patter against the windows further evoking a feeling of comfort and safety - as if they were completely insulated from the rest of the world.

Olivia brushed her lips against his, her left hand drifting down the back of his thigh and then smoothing upwards again to slip beneath the fabric of his boxers. She caressed him for a moment, reveling in the feel of his skin and the way in which his breathing changed at her actions before sliding her hand out again. She brought both hands to curl around his hips, her index fingers slipping beneath his waistband. She made no movement to proceed, merely lingering there, her thumbs lightly stroking his sides.

Elliot closed his eyes to try to center himself, reopening them as her soft voice met his ears.

"Elliot," she spoke against his lips, a hint of a question in her tone.

Her eyes were large and dark, and Elliot once again felt as though he were in a waking dream. It was unfathomable that she was really here in his arms. He felt her fingers curl more purposefully around his boxers, quietly communicating her intent. His eyes held hers, speech not coming, but unnecessary.

She kissed him gently, her weight shifting and her torso pressing against his more insistently as she coaxed him to roll onto his back. Their movements were slow and fluid, their bodies moving in unison as they always had in the field. Elliot's hands drifted up her spine to sift through her hair, their mouths still connected. They drew apart only slightly, Olivia's eyes holding his for a moment before delicately beginning to trail kisses down his body.

Elliot's jaw clenched as he felt her lips and her breasts brush against him as she moved lower, her path agonizingly slow. He watched her through heavy lids, his fingers remaining loosely woven into her hair. By the time she reached his pelvis, his breathing was labored, his muscles contracting as her lips and tongue teased the lower ridges of his abdomen.

Olivia's fingers hooked back into the waistband of his boxers, but before she began to pull them away, she paused for a moment, her smoldering eyes drifting up to lock onto his as she dragged her lips along his length, the heat of her breath permeating the thin barrier of cotton and setting every single nerve ending into overdrive.

He inhaled sharply, his hands reflexively fisting into her hair and his hips bucking up despite his best efforts to hold still. " _Christ_ , Liv," he grated, somewhere between a statement and a groan.

She held still again, her mouth hovering millimeters above him as she gave him a moment to regain his control, Elliot finally recovering enough awareness to force himself to relax his grip on her hair, his thumbs gently skimming back and forth along her hairline before allowing his hands to fall away.

Olivia continued to hold his gaze as she raised herself up enough to get the leverage needed to work the cotton down over his hips, Elliot arching up slightly to help her as the final article of clothing was drawn away.

Elliot watched with rapt attention as Olivia's eyes drifted over him, unconsciously drawing her lower lip into her mouth as she reached for him, just barely trailing her fingertips along his length. He made a small sound of restraint, his hands gripping onto the sheet, exhaling heavily through parted lips as her hand closed around him, stroking him lightly as her eyes met his again. She squeezed him gently as her thumb skimmed upwards along his shaft, gently grazing the tip, while her left hand smoothed comfortingly over his thigh, his muscles flexing beneath her palm.

Olivia couldn't help but drop her gaze again, mesmerized by the velvety smoothness of his skin and the searing heat of him in her palm. Her actions were slow, the intent not to bring him over the edge, but she couldn't stop herself from continuing to touch him. She was paying attention to his breathing, the tension in his muscles, varying her strokes as she learned what touch seemed to give him the most pleasure.

Elliot was losing his ability to think, overcome by the sensations she was causing. His hips were moving rhythmically with the motion of her palm, defying his attempts to prevent himself from thrusting into her grasp. Her other hand simultaneously drifted lower to cup him again, massaging him gently, and the pleasure coursing through him amplified tenfold. His head tipped back, his entire body tensing in response as he tried and failed to fully stifle his moan.

He was so, completely, overwhelmed by feeling that he was left totally unprepared for the sudden panic that gripped him when he unexpectedly felt her mouth close over him.

His eyes flew open, his hands immediately grasping onto her head in attempts to stop her. "Wait, Liv, no."

She heard the panicked urgency in his tone and released him, lifting her head to look at him with confusion and concern.

He was looking back at her with pain in his expression, still trying to catch his breath from her earlier actions as he somewhat frantically looked between her eyes. "No, Liv," he repeated with a slight shake of his head. "You don't have to."

Olivia's brow furrowed more in concern. "El, what is it? What's wrong?"

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, flooded by the recollection of the fear and pain in her eyes as he'd forced her to the ground.

 _Get on your fucking knees._

"Elliot?" Olivia said more urgently, trying to reach him.

 _Please don't make me do this!_

Elliot dropped his head back onto the mattress, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

Olivia drew herself back up his body to lie beside him, placing a palm reassuringly against his cheek. "El, talk to me," she coaxed, her voice soothing and calm. "Where is this coming from?"

 _You bite me and you're dead._

His breathing was pressured, his hands still frozen against his eyes. "Liv, I don't…I can't make you do that. Not after…"

Although he couldn't see it, Olivia's expression melted into one of compassion and understanding, her heart breaking as she imagined the thoughts racing through his mind. "Elliot, look at me… El, please?"

He scrubbed his palms over his face, sighing with a combination of resignation and frustration with himself for his inability to regulate his emotions.

She was looking back at him with empathy, wishing that she could convey the full extent of her trust by means of her gaze alone. "Elliot, I'm okay." She offered him a sad smile. "I'm okay," she repeated earnestly, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "You weren't _making_ me do anything, El."

He held her gaze but said nothing, his throat choked with emotion.

She kissed him softly, still holding her hand gently to his cheek, her head lifting again as she searched his eyes. "And you didn't force me to do that the night of the undercover either, El."

He started to protest, but she cut him off.

"I know - I _know_ \- that I frightened you with that flashback. And in the absence of…" She cleared her throat, momentarily struggling with her own demons. "Without my having told you about Harris," she continued more quietly, "…what he'd said and done… I can only imagine what you must have thought in the moment."

Elliot set his jaw, her panicked cries echoing in his ears.

"But, El… I saw your eyes," she recalled. "I was kneeling there…lost…and when I looked up, I saw your eyes…and they were blue. They were safe."

Elliot placed his palm over her hand, his fingers interlocking with hers.

"I knew where I was, El. I knew it was you." She tipped her head forward to briefly rest her forehead against his, her fingers squeezing his gently as she touched her lips to his once more.

Elliot lightly tugged on their joined hands, pulling hers from his cheek and cradling it against his chest. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and rough, his mind still cycling through the jumble of memories and emotions from this particular moment of their shared trauma. "You had a gun to your head and tears streaming down your face, and I still..." he stopped abruptly, on the verge of losing his control.

She waited for him, his breaths coming jerkily for a moment but gradually evening out again by strength of will alone.

"You were making me feel...so many things, Liv...and I...I had thought about you...sometimes..." his voice had dropped even lower, his chest tight with guilt. "Lots of times..." he grimaced, amending his admission, wanting to give her the truth. "And I couldn't stop thinking that it was _you_ there. You and me, Liv...and if Nikolai hadn't stopped you, I..." he trailed off, unable to voice the words. He felt like the worst human being on the planet. He would have come. She had been crying and struggling against his hold, and he would have come.

His eyes were haunted, guilt etched in his features.

Olivia's heart broke at the thought that he'd been silently carrying this emotional burden all of this time. "Elliot, it _was_ you and me...no matter how it unfolded, it was always you and me."

"Liv, you were crying...and I was...I was forceful and I..." His eyes were burning, the waver in his voice becoming more pronounced. "I'm so sorry, Liv," he rasped.

"Elliot, you were forceful because you had to be. I knew that. My tears weren't because of you or because of what I was...what I was doing to you," she finished a tinge uncomfortably. She wanted to continue to reassure him, but felt the stirrings of unease again at putting more of their hidden past out into the open. She dropped her gaze, a hint of color touching her cheeks though it was not apparent to him in the darkened room. "And you weren't the only one who had thought about us...together like that."

His hand tightened around hers at her words, watching as her eyes darted up to his briefly before nervously looking away.

A hint of a smile touched his lips despite the many layers of emotion in the air. "You're not the one who should be embarrassed for that, Liv."

She tipped her head forward to rest against his shoulder, her hair creating a shield that further hid her face from view. "You were married," came her somewhat muffled response.

Elliot's lips quirked, wrapping a hand around her nape and placing a kiss on the crown of her head. "Exactly," he replied with a bit of amusement.

Olivia breathed a laugh, shaking her head against him lightly before raising it up to face him once more.

He brushed the hair back from her face, looking at her with a complicated mix of emotions.

"I'm okay, El," she repeated, her tone falling serious once more. "And we can wait on that tonight...but I need you to trust that I'll tell you if there's something I'm not comfortable with."

He nodded.

"And I need..." she hesitated, not wanting to make him feel defensive. "I need you to stop holding back. It kills me knowing how long you've been holding onto that. I need you to talk to me."

He sighed in frustration. "What was I supposed to say, Liv? That I knew you were in agony in that room and I almost got off anyway?" He let out a bitter exhale that was almost a laugh. "That I eventually _did_ get off anyway?"

"Yes," she said evenly, her eyes narrowing, recognizing that his anger was directed toward himself.

"What the hell does that say about me?" His words started off angrily but ended in torment, his tone betraying his vulnerability. He'd been physically and emotionally abusive to her and his body hadn't given a damn.

Olivia responded without hesitation, sincerity in her gaze. "It says that what we meant to each other was the strongest thing in the room that night...not the people we had to pretend to be. It says that you felt me respond to you, and you responded right back, because for the first time, we were actually crossing the line. It also says that you've forgotten some key details that I vividly remember, because you're so hell-bent on punishing yourself for the role you had to play."

Elliot's brow furrowed, genuinely confused. "What details, Liv?"

Olivia lifted her hand from his chest, once again placing her palm against the contour of his cheek. "You're forgetting all of the moments that you tried to get me to say the words to end things, and I refused; all of the times you checked in with me with a glance or a question in your eyes, because that's the only thing you could do." She paused, remembering the turmoil in his expression when he was on top of her in that room; the way in which he had frozen in place, looking down at her with grief and remorse in his eyes. "And," she began softly, "most importantly, you're forgetting the part where you couldn't bring yourself to keep going, and _I_ moved us along."

She watched as he quietly processed her words, a somewhat distant look in his eyes as he cycled through the memories she was bringing to mind. His anger had dissipated. She could feel it in his body language; in the rhythm of his breathing. Yet perhaps because of his stillness, she was unprepared for the quiet, broken utterance that next escaped his lips.

"I was hurting you," he murmured, his expression stricken. His eyes were staring unfocused at her shoulder, tension in his jaw. "I was hurting you...and I hated myself." He swallowed, looking up at her again and seeing a glimmer of tears in her eyes that mirrored his own. "All I've ever wanted to do is protect you, Liv."

"You _were_ protecting me, Elliot. I know it doesn't feel that way, but you were."

He was quiet for a moment, pain flitting across his features as he remembered the expression on her face...the whimper that shattered his resolve. "You say you want me to talk to you about this stuff, Liv. The things I'm carrying..."

She nodded back at him, her fingers lightly stroking his scalp.

"I need to ask you...to know..." He visibly grimaced again, his throat tight with emotion. "How badly was I hurting you, Liv?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

"And please don't lie to me...because I'll know."

Olivia took a deep breath, wrapping herself around him more closely in attempts to make each of them feel more secure. She spoke softly, their heads close to one another as she looked into his eyes.

"In the beginning, it took me a minute... The part that you remember...I just...it had been a while for me, El," she admitted quietly. "But I promise you it wasn't to the extent that you're imagining."

"And after?" he rasped. He had been so rough with her. He'd felt her tensing with anticipation, her sobs intensifying as she begged him to stop.

Olivia's mind conjured up recollections of the progression of things... the times they could communicate nonverbally and the times that they'd had to up the ante to satisfy Nikolai's perverse enjoyment of her distress. She remembered the feel of Elliot inside of her...his strength and domination. She remembered the internal conflict she'd felt between her fear at the stark power differential and her desire for him that had quickly spiraled beyond her control. Even now, she felt the flicker of want in her belly as she thought about his ability to render her so completely under his control.

Elliot was trying to decipher the many things he saw playing out over her features. At first he was worried that she was trying to find a way to censor herself, to protect him from a truth that would hurt him, but then he felt the shift in her breathing, registered the heat in her gaze, and was struck by an awareness of the need that was building between them once more.

"After…" Olivia hesitated, unsure as to how to put everything into words. "After… It became the good kind of hurt, El," she said almost inaudibly, worried about how that might make her sound.

He was regarding her silently, his expression inscrutable, and Olivia felt the pressure to keep talking to try to backtrack somehow.

"We knew Nikolai liked the struggle…knew he wanted to see me broken and in pain. I was trying to project that. And it's true that I was afraid…of him and s-sometimes of you. But I wasn't afraid because you were hurting me, El." She paused, knowing the direction in which she was heading and forcing herself to push past the vulnerability in order to give him the truth he was so desperately seeking. "I was afraid because I realized how strong you were - that I couldn't get away when I was supposed to be fighting you…no matter how hard I tried… And I was afraid because at a certain point…" she stopped herself, nervously scraping her teeth over her lower lip.

"At a certain point what, Liv?" he pushed, his voice low and his expression still unreadable.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly against his, apprehension in her gaze as she steeled herself to reveal something to him that she had a hard time admitting even to herself. "At a certain point I realized that I didn't _want_ to…" she whispered.

If they hadn't been in that room…if she hadn't had to keep fighting him…she would have let him do whatever he wanted…however he wanted. She had never, ever, let anyone have that much control over her.

"If you'd been hurting me, Elliot…truly hurting me…I wouldn't have felt that way. I would have panicked."

Elliot felt something release in his chest upon hearing those words. He hadn't thought that Olivia would have been able to frame things in a way that he would have trusted to be completely truthful. He thought he would have had a flicker of doubt in his mind that she was trying to sugarcoat things to protect him. But he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that her last words were true. She had told him before how vulnerable and helpless she had felt at the fact that she'd been trying to stop him, and couldn't stop him. That she had been worried about how he had perceived her - that he might have thought less of her for her inability to physically stop his assault. He _had_ seen her in a full blown panic that night - in the immediate clutches of her flashback to Sealview - truly fearing for her physical safety. She hadn't responded like that again, with the exception of when Nikolai had attempted to command him to sodomize her and she'd become too panicked to speak.

Olivia was independent and strong. She was careful to protect herself because she knew, better than anyone, what it was like to have the control stripped away...the dangers of putting trust into the wrong hands. It wasn't something that she would relinquish lightly, if ever, and it was because Elliot knew her so well that he recognized the immensity of what she had just shared with him.

"Please believe me, El," she urged, when he still had yet to respond.

"I believe you," he replied, quietly repeating the words to further assure her as he pulled her more closely into his embrace, his lips finding hers.

Olivia slid her hand from his cheek to curl around the back of his neck, holding onto him as their gentle kisses gradually became deeper, the heat steadily building between them once more.

Elliot had been lying on his back, Olivia's body draped over his and her left leg resting over his hips. He shifted now, rolling onto his side to face her fully, his right hand sliding down the frame of her body and hooking beneath her knee to hold her flush against him.

Her mouth broke away to accommodate her gasp, feeling the heat of him pressed against the crux of her thighs for the first time.

Elliot dragged his lips across hers, capturing her lower lip briefly to give her a moment, before closing his mouth over hers once more. He swallowed her moan as he slowly rocked his hips forward, rubbing himself against her ever so slightly and feeling her clutch onto him more tightly in response. He slid his hand from her knee along the underside of her thigh, massaging her gently before lazily drifting over her ass. Every movement was languid, mirroring the slow caresses of his tongue against hers. He was kissing her lovingly and deeply and she was responding in kind, the rise and fall of her chest quickening with the thrum of her pulse, although her body language remained calm.

Elliot slowly rocked forward again and both of them gasped at the sensation, Olivia's heartbeat starting to register as a throb between her legs as his erection pressed even more closely against her. Unable to hold still, her hips rocked forward of their own accord, the slickness between her legs facilitating her movements as she slid herself against him.

His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her still for a moment as he tried to retain his composure. Olivia was equally flooded, her hands gripping onto him and her forehead resting against his, their mouths parting briefly as they attempted to take in air.

A long moment went by before Elliot rocked against her again, their breaths coming in heavy pants as his arm around her waist held her in place, his other hand tracing soothing patterns along her hip. Olivia was breathing so rapidly that her lips were tingling, holding herself still until Elliot's arm relaxed around her again. It was then that she moved against him, more purposefully this time, her hips shifting upward and lowering once more, the head of his erection enveloped by her warmth and just barely pressing against her entrance.

Elliot swallowed a moan, his arms tightening around her as he kissed her deeply once more, pulling back to look at her with a wealth of emotion in his eyes. "Liv?" he managed, his breathing labored from the effort of holding still.

"I love you," she breathed, her eyes large and open and sure.

Their eyes held one another as effectively as their embrace, his hips pressing forward slowly as he gently pushed inside of her, stilling at the first sign of resistance and giving her time. She exhaled at the feel of him, her walls stretching around him and gradually relaxing at her breath. Elliot brushed his lips against hers, holding her gaze as he pushed upward again, his jaw clenching at the feel of her enveloping him even more. She was starting to tremble against him, overcome by emotion and the sensation of him filling her more deeply.

"Easy, Liv," he murmured against her, his hand skimming along her spine.

He waited for her, listening to her breathing and the sound of the rain, and when he felt her relax again, he rocked upward for a third time, and carefully slid his way home.

She let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, wrapping her arms around him and seeking the comfort of the crook of his neck. He enfolded her into a stronger embrace, tucking his chin over her shoulder as they processed the connection that they had yearned for for so long. His forearm was resting between her shoulder blades, his hand flattening against her as he coaxed her further into his warmth. She clung to him, wishing she had the words to convey the extent of her need for him and of her love.

He stroked her nape with the pads of his thumb and forefinger, his head turning into her as he inhaled the fragrance of her hair. "I love you so much, Liv," he said shakily, all of his energy focused on trying to hold still.

Perhaps she could feel the slight tremor in his body as he struggled to give her time, but just at the moment when the urge to move within her became unbearable, she shifted - her lips dragging softly against his neck and her inner muscles tightening around him.

He let out an audible groan, his hips bucking forward and every inch of his body flexing as the pleasure coursed through him. Olivia gasped as his movements caused him to hit a particularly sensitive spot deep within her, her thigh squeezing his hip as she felt her inner walls tighten around him again in response.

They were unable to move or speak for another long moment, each of them completely overwhelmed by sensation and the depth of the emotional connection to one another that was intensifying by the minute.

Eventually Elliot found the wherewithal to move again, his hips shifting backward just enough for each of them to feel his movements inside of her before rocking forward again. He held her closely against him as he buried himself more deeply into her warmth. Her breath caught in her throat while he swallowed another moan, each of them clutching onto one another with an almost desperate intensity, as if to absorb strength from the other.

She was shaking…or he was…neither of them able to pinpoint where one person ended and the other began.

"Oh my God, El…" she breathed, her rapid exhales falling against his neck.

Unable to speak, he merely nodded against her, his body humming with pleasure and feeling dangerously close to the edge. He was trying to hold himself back with every ounce of restraint that he could muster, but the knowledge that it was Olivia in his arms - Olivia's warmth that surrounded him - was almost too much to bear.

Olivia was similarly trying to process the magnitude of what was building between them. He was filling her more completely and profoundly than anyone before, because it wasn't just the feel of him embedded within her, the pulse of him, his length…it was the knowledge that it was _Elliot_ enveloping her in his arms, the emotional aspects of his protectiveness and devotion having transformed into a tangible expression of his love for her.

She felt whole.

He slowly drew himself back and thrust forward again, his motions fluid and gentle. A soft cry escaped Olivia's lips, and she pressed her mouth against his shoulder. He felt her inner walls tighten even more around him, another tremor running through her.

He clenched his jaw, his breathing ragged as he waited for her to relax again. He was intoxicated by the feel of her against and around him, the softness of her skin, the rise and fall of her chest that quickened or slowed depending upon his movements within her.

His hand drifted upward to stroke her hair, his thumb caressing the shell of her ear as he gently coaxed her to look up at him. She tilted her head back from his shoulder, and when their eyes met, they both lost themselves even more. He bowed his head to brush his lips against hers, slowly and reverently loving her with the slightest touch before lifting his head again to meet her gaze. He moved again, rocking out and in, watching as her lips parted and her eyes darkened, and he was once again struck by her beauty.

They continued the slow pace that they had established, knowing that should they pick up the pace it would be so easy - too easy - to fall. The emotions were too intense, their connection having been so powerful from the moment of their first joining that they were each already on the verge of their release.

They held one another, giving each other time, their mouths meeting again and immediately seeking a deeper connection. He swallowed Olivia's quiet moan as he rocked within her again. Her inner muscles contracted around him even more tightly, his hand momentarily fisting into her hair before he caught himself and forced himself to relax his hold. He was finding it harder and harder to hold himself back, her responses to his movements becoming more intense and causing his control to slip a bit more each time. Just as the thought registered in his mind, he felt her tighten around him again and he let out a ragged exhale, his body shaking as he tried to prevent himself from thrusting forward again.

He was trying so hard to control his lower body, that he belatedly realized that his grip around her waist was bordering on crushing. He immediately relaxed his arm, his mouth breaking away from hers as he tried to catch his breath. "I'm sorry," he rasped, shaking his head against hers. He was desperate to keep himself in check - to allow her to control the pace. He didn't want to make her feel trapped; didn't want his strength to be triggering.

Olivia felt the rigidity in his muscles; his increased work of breathing. "El, I'm fine," she soothed. Her hand lifted to rest against his cheek, her fingers lightly skimming over his temple.

He shook his head again slightly, his weight shifting with the intention to roll onto his back - to give her the control he'd stolen from her that night - but she resisted his efforts. Her heel hooked around the back of his hip, her leg muscles holding him in place and her hand curling around the back of his head to hold him still.

"Liv-"

"No," she replied softly. There would be time for that. But _this_...here...the intimacy of the position, the ability for each to stay wrapped up in one another's embrace... This was what she wanted. "Just like this," she breathed.

She brushed her lips against his, her lower body subtly moving against him as she intentionally nudged him closer to the edge.

"Don't want to m-make you feel trapped," he managed, his pelvis rocking forward as another wave of pleasure rolled through him.

She smiled lightly against his lips, her thumb stroking his cheek and her voice wavering with emotion. "I've never felt safer in my life, El." She kissed him, a rush of heat flooding her belly as he deepened the contact. She pulled back somewhat shakily, her eyes holding his as she tried to convey the extent of the love and trust she was feeling. "Never in my life..."'she echoed.

Her voice had transformed into the velvety tone that he had come to associate with her capacity to soothe and heal. He didn't think she was aware of the way in which her empathy would permeate her tone. He had always interpreted it as her heart taking over.

She gently rotated her hips, both of them stifling cries as the motion brought about a whole new host of sensations.

"Let go, El," she breathed, struggling to find her own voice through the haze of desire that engulfed her.

She was now perpetually moving against him, her movements slow and slight, but purposefully drawing them further away from the present to allow pure feeling to take hold. He was matching her motions with gentle thrusts of his own, her hips undulating ever so slightly to meet his as the pleasure steadily built between them.

Their breaths were coming in shallow pants, Elliot unconsciously gripping onto her more tightly again, and Olivia welcomed it. They were feeling every single point of contact between them, their soft utterances of pleasure becoming one and the same. They continued the slow pace as long as they could, each wanting to prolong the moment, but the sensations were becoming too intense, their emotions heightening their physical connection and fueling their desire.

Elliot reached down to grasp onto her thigh, drawing her leg further up along the frame of his body, and she gasped at the feel of him penetrating her more deeply.

Her eyes had closed, the movements of her hips momentarily ceasing, and he wanted to check in with her. "Okay?" he asked quietly, his lips brushing against hers.

She nodded, having lost the ability to speak as she tried to process the shift.

He held her in place, resuming his gentle thrusts within her. Every forward motion was yielding a gasp or a moan, her walls clutching onto him more and more tightly as he gradually picked up the pace.

Olivia was no longer able to stifle the sounds that fell from her lips, every move he made causing waves of pleasure to flow through her. He was not giving her the ability to pull away to lessen the sensations he was causing, and she felt the heat and tension rapidly building in her core, her body quickly hurtling past the point of no return. All she could do was cling to him, the movements of her body becoming more pronounced, her reactions to his touch completely beyond her control.

Elliot groaned, his own control slipping away as everything faded from his awareness but her…the feel of her…his love for her…

He felt the beginnings of her climax, his name escaping from her lips as a cross between a whimper and a moan. He held her close to him, soothing her with his protective embrace.

"I love you, Olivia," he spoke into her ear, his voice choked with emotion and need.

He held on for as long as possible, his body shaking as she rode out her release, and when he followed her over the edge, neither of them had ever felt so complete.

* * *

 _End note:_

 _Also, sorry to post this at the end, but the songs I listened to over the months I've been writing this chapter are "This Isn't the Place" by Nine Inch Nails, "Street Spirit (Fade Out)" by Radiohead, and "Only" by boots. I would have mentioned them earlier, but typically I listen for mood, not lyrics, but in this case some aspects of the lyrics were mildly spoiler-y, and I didn't want to run the risk of foreshadowing anything._


	25. Chapter 25

_Chapter Note:_

 _As always...thank you for your patience. At times I feel like the characters are writing this, not me. Liv and El are vacillating between some pretty significant extremes of emotion. There's a lot to sift through - newness of their relationship, grief at the loss of Lara, moments of bliss interspersed with traumatic memories and regret...and a level of complete exhaustion. I hope people understand why there are tides of both grief and levity here. I think they can't be frozen in a place of grief right now, just as I don't think they can be frozen in a place of peace._

 _To those who left me feedback about the last chapter, thank you so, so very much for taking the time to do so. I held onto that chapter for so long, it felt deeply personal to post. (Also, thank you for refraining from coming after me with pitchforks and torches after the loss of Lara...I was worried that everyone would hate me.) xoxo, Jessica_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five**

They had fallen asleep in each other's arms, their bodies still connected. The feeling of peace had been so all-encompassing that neither had been willing to sever the connection. Elliot was the first to awaken, gradually drifting back to the present to become aware of the feel of Olivia nestled in his arms, the slow rise and fall of her chest against his, the weight of her head on his upper arm, and her warmth that enveloped him.

He raised his head, looking down at her with a mixture of reverence and awe. He didn't feel deserving of her, nor of this chance to make amends for all of the things he had done. Mind, body, and soul, she was the most beautiful and giving person that he had ever met. His love for her was so, incredibly, expansive in that moment that it almost moved him to the point of tears. He would do anything for her; anything to try to take some of the pain and loss away and absorb it as his own.

He lifted his hand from the curve of her back, the heat of his palm hovering over her cheek for a moment before delicately tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips just barely grazing her cheekbone. He lowered his head onto his pillow again, his lips resting against her forehead. He wanted to allow her to sleep, exhaustion having claimed her in the aftermath of the emotion of the day, but he couldn't stop himself from caressing her, his palm lightly smoothing down her side. Her skin was so soft…every inch of her like silk…and as the thought drifted into his mind, he couldn't help but think of the velvety depths of her that still surrounded him.

He felt a rush of heat flood through him, unsuccessfully attempting to rein in his thoughts as his body began to stir. He closed his eyes, trying to divert his focus to counting his breaths, but the thrum of his pulse was reverberating all the way through him, drawing attention to every point of connection in and around her and he swiftly lost any hope of being able to control his reaction to her presence. His hand reflexively tightened around her, his lips dragging lightly over her brow. His breathing quickened as he felt her internal muscles beginning to respond to him, a small utterance of pleasure escaping her lips even in her half-asleep reverie. The sound shattered the rest of his resolve, his pelvis rocking forward almost imperceptibly as she joined him in the present, her eyes fluttering open to meet his and immediately darkening with desire.

His name fell from her lips as an exhale, her hips moving against his in a slow, rocking motion as he pulsed and grew within her.

She tilted her head back seeking greater contact, and his lips skimmed down over the bridge of her nose to find her own. She immediately opened herself to him, allowing him to control the pace, the strokes of his tongue amplifying the warmth flowing through her. She moaned into his mouth, trying to press herself more closely against him and he enfolded her into a stronger embrace, his hand tangling into her hair.

The passion was building quickly this time, each feeling intoxicated by the presence of the other. The sensations were dictating their movements, the pleasure causing them to react instinctively and more freely than before, hands roving and their lower bodies easily finding a shared rhythm.

Elliot's arms tightened around her as he rolled over onto his back, and this time Olivia willingly followed, their mouths and torsos remaining connected as she rocked and moved on top of him. He held her down as he thrust upward, her inner muscles contracting around him in response as he penetrated her more deeply. She gasped, meeting him thrust for thrust with gentle motions of her own. Elliot's arms remained locked around her to hold her in place as he tried to somehow pull her even more closely to him. She braced her forearms on either side of his head, her forehead tilting to rest against his as she tried to catch her breath, but she was so sensitized from before that every movement he made within her was causing an intense feeling of warmth and pleasure to radiate from the inside out, rapidly propelling her toward the edge.

He felt her walls gripping onto him like a vise, heard the tinges of moans on her exhales with every upward motion of his hips. He groaned, trying to keep himself together as her name became an internal mantra in his head - as if he were trying to convince himself that this was truly happening.

 _Olivia._

It still felt like a dream. He was _inside_ of her. It was Olivia's breaths falling against his skin...her movements...her depths...her heat...

She was trying to hold herself back, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that his actions were eliciting, but the sensations he was causing were overwhelming, her body writhing against his beyond her conscious control.

"El, God, I..."

"I know," he rasped. "Don't hold back."

She cried out as his hips shifted, his pelvis pressing against her as he continued to rock inside of her, withdrawing only minimally as he thrust upward again, and again, and again, touching the deepest parts of her.

Elliot groaned, losing his own control as he felt her start to fall, her cries becoming more desperate, her inner muscles clutching onto him even more tightly until she froze in place for a moment, her head falling forward over his shoulder as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He held out for as long as he could to prolong her high, rocking into her a few more times, his utterances of exertion mixing with her moans before the pleasure overtook him and he buried himself to the hilt, his arm around her waist and his hand clutching onto her nape, holding her in his embrace as he shuddered and jerked beneath her.

Neither of them were able to formulate words. They were each caught up in a haze of emotion and bliss. Olivia remained draped over him, Elliot supporting her body with his own. His arms were holding her flush against him, though she had absolutely no intention nor desire to move away from him. She felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath her, the weight of his arms making her feel protected and secure.

 _I've never felt safer in my life._

She had meant for the words to reassure Elliot, but in that moment she was struck by how deeply truthful they were. She had never felt this degree of calm before, even in the aftermath of so much trauma and loss. It was a degree of peace that came from the knowledge that she was with the one person that truly understood - not just an understanding of all that they'd endured, but of what it meant that they were finally _here_.

Their collective breathing was gradually evening, the pulse of their intimate connection and her gentle flutters around him gradually waning. She buried her head further into the warmth of his neck and shoulder, her lips brushing his skin. "I love you so much, El," she murmured shakily.

Elliot nodded against her, still struggling to find his voice, his thumb dragging soothingly back and forth along her neck.

Olivia thought back to the rare moments in their partnership when they'd sought the comfort of one another's embrace. They had never permitted themselves to linger in the moment, perhaps recognizing the layers of emotion communicated in the gesture and the inherent danger of opening themselves up to the depths that existed below the fragile boundary they had established. In those moments, they had each felt it - the yearning for more; the recognition of the bond that tethered them to one another more deeply than they were allowed to acknowledge.

Olivia breathed in his scent, trying to commit every aspect of their connection to memory. To each of them, it was this night that felt like their first intimate experience with one another, calm taking the place of the conflicted jumble of emotions wrought from the night of the undercover.

Several long minutes passed before Elliot loosened his hold, as if he were only just registering the strength of his grasp. "Sorry," he murmured, his left hand skimming soothingly along her spine as his right lifted from her nape to gently sift through her hair. "I know we have to move, but I just..."

She smiled against his neck. "Want to stay here forever?"

"Yeah, does that work for you?" he spoke through his own smile.

She breathed a laugh. "Yeah, it does."

Elliot placed a kiss on her temple, his lips skimming down her cheek as Olivia raised her head just far enough to be able to make eye contact with him once more. They shared a lingering look, Elliot's hand slipping from her hair to cup her cheek in his palm.

"I love you," he said softly, his tone matching the quiet that had descended upon them.

Olivia closed the slight distance, lowering her head to brush her lips against his as both of Elliot's hands lifted to frame her face; caressing her as lightly as the slow, gentle kisses they were trading. The rain was still falling, the sound of it against the windowpanes occasionally drifting into their awareness, only to get lost again as they lost themselves in each other.

It was Olivia who eventually reluctantly pulled back, her forehead tipping against his.

"You ready to get up?" Elliot murmured.

"No."

He smiled again at the defiance in her tone.

"But...yes," she continued with a light sigh. "I need to."

He nodded.

"I wish we could, you know? Stay here forever."

Elliot heard the tinge of melancholy behind her words and he sought to combat it temporarily with humor. "Give me a minute and we'll be back here again," he rumbled suggestively.

Olivia chuckled. "You're awfully sure of yourself, Stabler," she teased, her eyes sparkling down at him.

"Yeah I am," he replied with no shame, his trademark smirk on his face.

He used his abdominal muscles to help ease them both upright, her arms loosely draped over his shoulders and his hands finding the dips of her waist. He was relishing these last few moments of intimate connection with her. In fact, he had never felt this level of reluctance to separate. They had weathered so much to arrive at this point, and having finally been able to love her the way he had always wanted to - physically and emotionally - he felt a pang of sadness at his inability to keep them insulated in this moment of peace. He didn't want to let her go.

This time Olivia caught sight of the telling look in his eye, and she, too, wanted to offer reassurance. "You have me, El," she said softly, her right forearm lifting from his shoulder so that she could cup his cheek in her palm, her thumb lightly dragging over the stubble that dotted his jaw. She bowed her head to touch her lips to his, their kiss tender and filled with the words that no longer needed to be spoken.

He swept his eyes over her face as they drew apart, his voice gravelly and filled with emotion. "And I am the luckiest man." He paused in contemplation. "I never thought..." he shook his head slightly, "to be with you, Liv...it's..." It felt like a dream.

She nodded, whispering her understanding against his lips before kissing him one last time. They lingered in that moment, their hands caressing one another with reverence and love, and when they drew apart, she held his gaze to prepare each of them, waiting for his nod before raising herself up from his lap just enough for him to finally slip from between her legs. She swallowed at the sensation, suddenly recalling the feeling of emptiness that she had felt in the club and in the shower that night upon their return to her apartment.

The expression of loss that flitted across her features was almost imperceptible, but they were still so close to one another that Elliot recognized it immediately, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Hey," he soothed, one hand squeezing the base of her neck and the other stroking her back. "You have me too, Liv. Always."

She attempted a smile but was still trapped in the memory. She had thought she would never feel complete again - thought that the ephemeral glimpses of what might have been that had occasionally broken through the fear were the only moments that she would have to cling to in the aftermath.

"Talk to me," he whispered.

She tried to shrug it off to lessen the significance. "It's nothing. That night...I just...felt empty."

"I'm so sorry, Liv."

She shook her head adamantly against the pain in his eyes. "It wasn't anything you did, El. It wasn't...wasn't that." She sighed, dropping her gaze. "Like you said, El. I never thought we'd be here, so I thought..." she trailed off, dropping her voice to an even quieter volume. "I thought I'd never feel you again...never be with you again, and even though it unfolded the way it had, I felt..."

"Like you'd lost everything," he finished knowingly, her eyes lifting to meet his again in surprise. "Me too, Liv. And I felt like the biggest asshole - feeling sorry for myself after everything I'd put you through."

One side of her lips lifted in a wry smile. "Would have been nice if either one of us had talked about this then."

Elliot chuckled. "We _don't_ talk."

"No, I guess we don't."

Elliot kissed her forehead. "Didn't talk," he amended. "We do now..."

She nodded, responding after a pause. "I think we did the best we could, El. I wasn't ready to admit some things to myself then, let alone to you."

He enfolded her into an embrace, noting the way in which their bodies always seemed to fit so perfectly together. "I'll make you a deal. I promise to try to stop keeping these things from you, if you promise to do the same?"

"Yeah."

He placed a kiss on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, breathing her in. "Please trust me, Liv. You never have to hide anything from me." He wished she could understand that every single thing that she had revealed to him throughout the case and the aftermath had made him love and respect her even more. He had told her she was the strongest person he knew, and that had never been more present in his mind.

"I do trust you, El."

"Okay," he replied, clearing his throat against the tightness. Why she trusted him after all that he had put her through, he would never understand, but he was infinitely grateful for it.

Elliot scooted them forward toward the edge of the bed until his feet met the floor, supporting her weight and helping her up as he stood with her, his arms still wrapped around her. Olivia's legs were stiff after kneeling over him for as long as she had been, and she made a mental note of his wordless understanding and attentiveness that seemed to have heightened even more than before.

They traded a few gentle kisses until she slowly backed away a few paces, feeling a rush of heat and happiness as she caught the appreciative glint in his eye as he tried and failed to prevent himself from trailing his eyes over her body. She smiled subtly, acknowledging her awareness of his focus with a slight arch of her brow before she turned and headed off in the direction of the bathroom.

Elliot stood frozen in place as he heard the click of the door shutting behind her, once again feeling like the luckiest bastard on the planet as the recollections of their intimate moments together flowed through his mind. He shook his head in attempts to clear it, pulling on a pair of sweats before emerging into the hall and heading into the kitchen. He flipped on the overhead light, blinking against the brightness, which was jarring not only by nature of the brightness itself but also because it illuminated all of the jagged shards of broken glass that littered the floor. His heart clenched, the reality of the loss and its impact upon Olivia fully settling in once more. After a brief search, he found a dustpan and hand broom in the far closet, and he worked to carefully sweep up all of the pieces that he could find, worrying still that some smaller pieces might be remaining but doing his best to make it safe again. Once that was taken care of, he cast his eyes around the opposite side of the kitchen, stooping to pick up Olivia's cell phone and the battery that had ejected itself as it hit the floor. He reassembled them and pushed the power button to see if it was still functional, and a short time after the screen came back to life, displaying a missed call and voicemail from Cragen. He assumed the news about Lara had filtered back to the 1-6 from the hospital or M.E.'s office.

He crossed the room to check his own phone and he, too, had missed a call from Cragen, though he had not received a voicemail. He opted to make outreach first, wanting to spare Olivia from having to have that conversation if at all possible. He heard the hiss of the shower and assumed it was a safe time to do so, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly as he raised the phone to his ear.

" _Cragen,"_ came the voice after the second ring.

"Cap, it's Elliot," he said with some hesitancy.

There was a beat of silence on the other line, and he assumed that Cragen was equally struggling to figure out how to put the situation into words.

" _Elliot, I spoke with the M.E. up in Westchester..."_

"Yeah," Elliot replied with fatigue. "Olivia called a few hours ago," he lied. "It's...it's been a rough night."

" _Are you with her now?"_ Cragen asked.

There was no hint of accusation in his tone, only worry.

"Yeah, Cap. I headed over as soon as I heard."

More silence ensued, any number of unspoken questions filling the space.

"She's...okay," Elliot continued. "This one hit hard."

Cragen sighed, and Elliot could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose.

" _Nobody wanted this outcome."_

Elliot remained silent this time, unsure of what to say, his feelings of failure related to Lara and guilt at misleading his commanding officer making him feel more on edge than he might otherwise have been.

" _You did all that you could, Elliot. None of this is on you."_

Elliot swallowed before answering, but was unable to keep his voice as steady as he'd have liked. "I know, Cap," he rasped, replaying Nikolai's elbow to his throat over and over in his mind.

" _It goes with out saying that both of you are taking time. I don't want to see you here. At the very least until your arm is healed, and as for Olivia-"_

"You know how she is...but I'll try."

" _Thanks for the call. We'll handle things from here."_

Elliot nodded as if Cragen could see his response, and after a few moments of silence, he heard the line disconnect. He scrubbed a palm over his face, staring in the direction of the spot in which Olivia had been standing when she received the fateful call. How they would be able to let this one go, he wasn't sure. He just prayed that time would attenuate their feelings of culpability and loss.

As much as he was struggling with Lara's death, he was infinitely more concerned about Olivia. He felt powerless to ameliorate things, so he continued to focus on trying to accomplish the few things that were within his control - Olivia's physical well-being being one of them. She had barely eaten anything all day, Lara's emotional needs having taken precedence. He wandered over to peer into the mostly empty fridge and then quickly checked the time - a little after 10:00pm. It was late, but he opted to make that call to the local Chinese food place after all. By the grace of the perks of Manhattan, they were still open and he rattled off the list of their usuals to be given a twenty minute window. He clicked off the overhead light again, leaving the illumination to the small table lamp Olivia had turned on earlier, and immediately found himself breathing a bit easier. He needed the calm as much as Olivia did tonight.

The shower had shut off some time ago and he was glad, as it hopefully meant that she would soon be emerging. He stared out of the window, trying to distract himself as he waited. He was craving her proximity like nothing else at the moment. He needed to know she was okay. Needed to be able to see her, hold her, to reassure his anxious mind.

Just as the urge to check on her intensified to an almost overwhelming degree, he heard the sound of her footsteps padding down the hall. He turned in search of her and immediately lost the power of speech as she walked toward him wearing his USMC T-shirt. _Just_ his USMC shirt. The hemline fell to her upper thighs, covering her, technically...but all he could see were her long, bare legs that disappeared beneath the fabric of her shirt... _his_ shirt. Miles and miles of toned skin that led to...what? Was she wearing anything beneath it?

He was brought back to reality by her amused chuckle. She had paused approximately four feet away, her arms crossed beneath her breasts and her head cocked to the side. It wasn't that she was immune to his effects on her either - she had been able to garner a good eyeful of his bare chest while he was distracted by her attire; yet the expression on his face was such that she wondered if he were remembering to breathe at all.

"You okay over there, Stabler?" she teased.

He absently scraped his teeth over his lower lip, still too distracted to respond to her light provocation.

"Liv, when you said you wore the shirt...were you...did you uh..."

A slight smile graced her lips, the timbre of her voice changing into something softer, sultry even. "Was I wearing it like this?"

He drew a hand along his jaw, lacking the capacity for a verbal response.

The look in his eyes was sparking a flicker of want within her again, and although she had been the one doing the teasing, she suddenly felt as though he were the one on solid ground.

Her voice quieted even more, just barely audible over the sound of the rain. "Sometimes."

She watched as his eyes darkened, his gaze drifting over her and eliciting goosebumps as she could almost feel the intensity of it on her skin.

Her breathing quickened as he slowly closed the distance, feeling an electricity between them that was different than the one she had felt as he had stalked toward her at the club, but just as powerful. She involuntarily licked her lips, reflexively taking a half step back as he came to stand a foot in front of her, her back grazing the edge of the island counter that divided the space.

His right hand lifted to comb through her damp locks, his fingers then trailing out again to graze her jawline, his thumb tracing her lower lip. His voice had dropped an octave as well, mesmerizing her as effectively as the look in his eyes. "So...you wore this. Just like this..."

"Sometimes," she repeated, barely above a whisper.

"And what would I find beneath it?" he asked, his hand continuing its lazy exploration, lightly drifting over her shoulder, his fingertips skimming down the length of her arm, his thumb simultaneously brushing along the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip...until his warm palm curved around her thigh.

She didn't respond to the question, her breathing shallow and her lips slightly parted to accommodate her frequent exhales.

His eyes locked onto hers, holding her captive by the heat of his gaze and the position of his body before her. His hand shifted again, gently massaging her before slowly smoothing over the front of her thigh and down to the top of her knee, and then he reversed course, the backs of his fingers slowly trailing upwards along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His hand slowed even further as it disappeared beneath the fabric of his shirt, skimming higher and higher until his fingertips grazed her bare center.

She sucked in a breath, his fingers trailing over the wetness he found there, his left hand lifting to hold onto her waist, keeping her steady as he teased her opening with slow, gentle strokes.

"Detective Benson," he murmured, continuing the motion of his hand. "You stole my personal property...you wore this without my permission...and you lied to a fellow officer of the law when asked a direct question as to its whereabouts... Isn't that a fact?"

"Yes," she hissed as he slowly pushed a finger inside of her.

"So...the way I see it... That's petit larceny..."

She bit back a moan as his thumb swiped over her clit.

"And making a false statement..."

"It w-wasn't under oath," she managed.

His lips quirked. "Are you arguing with me, Detective?" He added another finger.

She shook her head, stifling another moan.

"I would hate to have to add a charge of disorderly conduct..." He curled his fingers, slowly dragging them along her inner wall as his thumb continued its gentle ministrations.

"God, El..." her hands reached out to steady herself against his chest, her head tipping forward to rest against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm more securely around her waist, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he spoke against her. "This okay, Liv?" he asked quietly, all teasing removed from his tone.

"God, yes..." she gasped, his fingers now perpetually and rhythmically moving within her, her walls tightening around him more with every passing moment.

He drew her against him as closely as possible, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"You're so beautiful, Liv," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. "I love you so much."

What had started out as something playful had quickly transformed into something much more intimate again. The depth of emotion that tethered them to one another had intensified in the wake of their earlier lovemaking, and now that the floodgates were open, neither of them were able to contain the magnitude of it all.

Olivia's cheek was pressed against the column of his throat, her eyes closed as she allowed him to support her, enveloped by his warmth and his scent as much as by the reassuring weight of his arm around her waist. His movements within her were gentle, and the soft sounds that fell from her lips matched the quiet atmosphere of the moment.

Elliot was overcome by a sense of protectiveness and devotion. She was completely relaxed against him, trusting him with all of herself as she allowed him to take control. As before, it was the knowledge of what it meant that she was placing her trust in his hands that was perhaps the most meaningful to him. Her defenses were down, she was completely open, and this privilege was his and his alone.

Her hips were subtly moving against his hand, her arms holding onto him more tightly as the sensations he was evoking began to consume her.

His hand shifted and she gasped, the heel of his hand continuously rubbing against her and his fingers applying a constant pressure against her most sensitive spot within.

"El," she said breathlessly, her inner muscles tightening around him.

"I've got you."

She gasped again, feeling the pleasure build and build.

"That's it," he breathed, continuing to whisper words of reassurance as she rapidly approached the edge.

She came undone with a soft cry, her knees buckling but barely registering as he continued to support her weight.

He continued to hold her, feeling the slight tremors in her body and her rhythmic pulses around his fingers gradually ebb away. Her hips jerked forward slightly as he ultimately withdrew his hand and he placed a kiss against her temple, wrapping her up more securely with both of his arms. He shifted his weight ever so slightly from side to side, breathing in the familiar fragrance of her damp hair.

"I love you," he said, emphasizing his words with a gentle squeeze.

"Love you too, El," she murmured somewhat shakily, still trying to regain her bearings.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his left hand lifting to smooth over her hair. He was inwardly chastising himself for his lack of control. He had hardly given her any time to recover before touching her again, all willpower having flown out of the window the moment he had seen her standing before him. She was intoxicating. He wondered how he had ever successfully managed to prevent himself from touching her for so long.

She smiled against his collarbone. "More than okay."

"When I saw you, I just..."

"Elliot, I'm fine," she soothed.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, needing to read her expression. "Liv, you'll tell me, right? If I ever...if-"

She kissed him...stealing his words and his thoughts and his breath. The contact was light, but full of emotion, her palm flattening against his cheek. Her thumb caressed his cheekbone as she drew back, dragging her lips against his one last time before holding his gaze. "Yes," she replied huskily. "Always."

The wave of anxiety that had gripped him had dissipated at her words and her touch, but an awareness had struck him at the conflict warring within him as he struggled to navigate their traumatic past and present longing. He had reacted impulsively earlier, swept up in a haze of desire.

Olivia took in his silence and the slightly detached look in his eyes. She looked back and forth between them, continuing to lightly caress his cheek in attempts to reach him. "Elliot what do you need to ask me?" she tried.

"Nothing, Liv. I just...I should have checked in with you sooner." She opened her mouth to respond, but he quickly continued. "I _know_ you're okay. I believe you, Liv. But I should have been more...mindful," he concluded after searching for the word. One side of his lips lifted into somewhat of a sheepish smile. "In all honesty, I wasn't really thinking at all."

"And you think I was?" she teased.

He made a gesture of somewhat hesitant acknowledgment, his hand tracing slow circles along her lower back. "Liv...I backed you into the counter," he said with some chagrin.

"El, did it feel like I wasn't into it?" she asked gently, her expression equal parts earnest and loving.

He cleared his throat at the recollections that drifted back into his mind. "No, but..." he paused, his tone falling serious again. "You backed away, Liv."

"Not from fear, El."

"I should have checked in with you then," he said evenly.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, stepping into him again and wrapping him back up into an embrace. "I'll tell you if I need a moment, El. If something makes me uncomfortable, I promise I'll let you know."

"Okay."

They fell silent for a moment, lost in their respective thoughts.

Something had resonated for Olivia in a different way at their exchange. Elliot's words had given her a glimpse of an uncertainty that he typically kept hidden. Over the course of their partnership, he'd always come across as decisive and sure. Right or wrong, his opinions and decisions carried an air of confidence - a stubborn refusal, frequently, to bend in his convictions once he had made up his mind about something. It had led to countless battles of wills over the years. Yet as Olivia reflected back over the tone of their conversations tonight, an awareness dawned at just how much conflict churned beneath the surface. He had agonized over aspects of their traumatic encounter in the club, not just emanating from a place of guilt or concern for her well-being, but from a place of apprehension that he had made the _wrong_ decisions - that the choices he had made had somehow made things worse. Olivia's heart clenched at the realization of just how profoundly difficult it must have been for him to make those split second decisions without having been able to check in with her. She had been too consumed by fear that night to fully comprehend what a tremendous weight of responsibility he had carried on his shoulders. She needed him to understand that he didn't have to carry that burden alone anymore - that she now had the ability to make those decisions with him.

"We're not in that room anymore, Elliot," she said softly. "I have my voice back."

He nodded against her. "Yeah, you do."

She kissed his neck, her hand cupping the back of his head as she lightly raked her nails over his scalp. "Trust me?"

"I do, Liv."

They continued to hold one another, once again finding a degree of peace in their physical connection that was more elusive when they were apart. The calm in that moment was so pervasive that Olivia almost jumped out of her skin when the buzzer sounded, alerting them to the presence of the deliveryman at the front door.

"I'm sorry," Elliot soothed at her startle response. "I should have mentioned that I ordered us some Chinese after all."

Olivia hadn't been aware that she was hungry, drowned out by the events of the evening, but at the mention of food, she felt the hunger pangs come back to life. "Thanks," she said, raking a hand through her hair. "Do you need-"

"Nah," he preemptively shook his head. "I've got it."

He crossed the room to buzz the guy in out of the rain, letting him know he'd run down, and when he turned back again he couldn't help himself from taking in the vision Olivia presented before him.

"I'll just be a minute then," she replied, cocking her head toward the hall.

A mischievous glint sparkled in Elliot's eyes, one side of his mouth lifting into a sly smile. "Y'know, I should probably throw a shirt on..." he mused, eyeing the shirt that covered her frame and arching a brow. "Can I have mine back?"

He broke into a grin before he'd been able to finish his question, the withering glare that Olivia had attempted to shoot in his direction also falling flat on account of her inability to conceal her amusement.

"No," she said flatly with narrowed eyes, her own smile breaking free as she turned to walk back down the hall.

Elliot chuckled, pulling on the damp fleece that was hanging by the front door and going to retrieve their food.

* * *

Olivia had taken over as soon as he got back upstairs, giving him a moment to take a quick shower while she brought things to the living room. She smiled lightly, recalling Elliot's reaction to her attire - having pulled on a pair of sweatpants beneath his T-shirt this time.

" _Trying to save me from myself, Benson?"_ he had asked.

" _Just helping us get through dinner, Stabler,"_ she'd replied with a smirk, taking the bag from him and watching him peel off the fleece once more. She had stared at his bare torso again, taking advantage of his moment of distraction while he was working to right the sleeves. _"If you're hungry,"_ she'd added as he turned to hang it back up, _"you might want to follow suit."_

Her statement had been made casually, heading into the other room before he'd had a chance to process her words, but she'd heard his light laughter as he disappeared down the hall.

Olivia shook her head at the recollection, struck by how much had changed for them in such a short period of time. It felt natural - the progression of their everyday banter and rapport into more flirtatious territory. Comfortable. Similarly, although new, the development of their physical relationship hadn't created awkwardness or tension. In fact, it felt as though a deeply rooted tension had finally dissipated. After so many years of locking feelings away, and after having endured so much pain and trauma in their recent past, their ability to be physically intimate was healing in a way that transcended that which any amount of words could accomplish. For once, they could love one another with all of themselves.

She heard the shower shut off, depositing plates and utensils onto the coffee table before making one last trip to the kitchen in search of beverages; yet when she opened the cupboard to retrieve some glasses, she was suddenly overcome by a wave of grief. She stood there, frozen, staring at the glasses, remembering the last moments of normalcy before receiving the call that had changed everything. Her throat felt tight and her chest constricted, the act of breathing becoming almost painful. Memories of her time with Lara flooded back with a vengeance, as did her regret for not having been there in the end. She fought against the tears that were re-forming, the glasses blurring and churning before her.

Elliot emerged from the hall, quietly taking in the scene before him. Her body language was rigid, her jaw set resolutely against another breakdown. He remained still for a moment and then slowly began to approach her, knowing that she was unaware of his presence and not wanting to startle her. He came to stand to her left, facing her side as she continued to focus straight ahead.

"Liv," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She closed her eyes.

"Leave the glasses. We don't need them."

He reached for her, tenderly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before curling his palm around her nape.

She tried to clear her throat against the tightness, but still didn't chance an attempt to speak. Part of her wanted to throw the rest of the glasses against the wall, one after another after another until nothing was left to remind her of that moment. As the thought entered her mind, she belatedly realized that Elliot had taken care of the aftermath of her earlier outburst, getting rid of the shards that covered the floor so that she wouldn't have to revisit the memory. It had been yet another attempt on his part to protect her.

She felt as he shifted to stand behind her, his right arm reaching around her to cover her hand with his own. He brushed his thumb along her knuckles to coax her to loosen her grasp before pushing the cupboard door closed. His hand captured hers as soon as she released the handle, interlocking their fingers and curling his against her palm as he wrapped her up into an embrace.

He said nothing; he just gave her time, his left arm around her waist and their joined arms folded into her chest. He paid attention to her intermittent pressured breathing, her back moulded to his chest, and it was as if he could hear the thoughts and emotions racing through her mind. He bowed his head, placing a lingering kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. A short time after, he felt her take in a deeper breath, her head tilting back to rest against him and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Okay," she said after another minute or two, the word emerging as an exhale.

He nodded against her, waiting until she lifted her head again before relaxing his hold, but when she pivoted to face him she looked so melancholy that he immediately pulled her back into his arms - more tightly this time, feeling her breathing become uneven once more. She was trying to rein herself in and he knew he was making it harder for her to lock her emotions away, but he needed to hold her.

"We need to drink something, El," she said somewhat brokenly.

"You have beer," he replied against her, his hand stroking her hair.

"I have beer?"

He smiled at the tinge of hopefulness in her tone. Beer meant no glasses were required. "Yeah, I checked earlier. You have two bottles left from the other night."

"Oh thank God..." she murmured under her breath, feeling his smile broaden at her words. "It's stupid, I know. I just..."

"It's not stupid, Liv. I get it." He kissed her temple and then slid his arms apart. He allowed her to pull away, but one hand lingered in her hair. He swept his eyes over her face seeking confirmation that she was calm before touching his lips to hers. The contact was light, a means to convey compassion and solidarity, and when he drew back, his eyes held the same sentiments. "Go on and get comfortable. I'll grab the beer."

She nodded, folding her arms across her chest as she made her way into the living room. She took a seat on the floor in front of the couch, her legs stretched out beneath the coffee table. When he joined her, she realized that they had effectively recreated their positions from the night that they had taken the photographs - Elliot to her right, Chinese food before them.

"Déjà vu," she said as Elliot handed her her beer.

Elliot considered her words for a moment, a beer poised at his lips, recognition dawning as he exhaled a slight laugh against the opening. He took a swig, shaking his head lightly as he set the bottle down on the table. He snaked his left arm around her shoulders tugging her against him lightly as he kissed the side of her head. "Not everything's the same, Benson," he said, his hand sifting through her hair briefly before he brought his arm back to his side.

"No," she murmured wistfully, staring absently at the plate in front of her. Eight days. Eight days since she'd learned he was single. Eight days since the first boundaries were crossed. It was hard to believe all that they had endured in little more than a week.

"I felt like such an asshole that night," Elliot said, doling out some fried rice for each of them.

She turned her head over her shoulder, surprised by the admission. "The photos weren't your call, Elliot," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know," he replied with fatigue, reaching over to grab the container of chicken and broccoli. "But I pulled the rug out from under you that night, Liv. And then I pushed you past your comfort zone." He finished serving her before putting some on his own plate.

"None of that was your fault, El," she said, running a hand along his thigh.

"Someone else was cuffing you to that bed?" he said heatedly, setting the carton down.

She shifted to face him, her left hand reaching around to his opposite cheek as she gently but firmly made him meet her gaze. "I told you what that was, and it had nothing to do with _you_."

He shrugged somewhat dismissively. "All the same..."

She sighed, frustration creeping back in as she let her hand fall away. "All the same _nothing_ , El. Honestly? Even if the cuffs hadn't come into the picture, something else likely would have set me off. And it would have had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that I hadn't-". She stopped abruptly, she hadn't talked to him about the preceding months and hadn't intended to do so. She sighed again. "Never mind."

She took a sip of her beer, running a palm back and forth along her forehead as she waited for the inevitable questioning to come.

"Liv?"

There it was...the start of many that would continue until he got the answers he sought. She should have kept her mouth shut. She rested her beer on her knee, leaning back against the couch with a mixture of resignation and fatigue. "Nothing, El," she said quietly. "I just hadn't let anyone be physically close to me since Sealview... You and me in a squad car?" She let out a laugh that was devoid of all humor. "Yeah, that was probably the closest anyone had come." She picked at the label on the bottle, her voice lowering even more. "That night...with you...it had less to do with trust and more to do with feeling confined. The sound of metal against metal brought me back, but even without that specific trigger, I probably..." she trailed off, genuinely trying to figure out a way to put the feeling into words. She shrugged. "It's not a rational thing, El...but a visceral one."

He nodded. "I felt sick that night, Liv. I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking of the look in your eyes." He exhaled bitterly. "Fuckin' child's play compared to what I put you through the night of the undercover. I had no fucking clue."

"Neither one of us did." There was no challenge in her tone, only understanding.

They sat in silence for a while, lost in their respective thoughts. She took another drink and then set the bottle back on the table, returning her palm to his thigh and giving him a light squeeze above his knee. She stared at the fabric of his sweats, her thumb running along a fold in the cotton.

"El," she said softly. "You need to know...if you hadn't been there - if this had happened with anyone else - I wouldn't be okay right now." From her peripheral vision she saw him turn his head over his shoulder to look at her, but she continued to look down. "So, you can beat yourself up, but I wish you understood that throughout this ordeal, you have literally been the one thing keeping me from completely falling apart."

Elliot wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, coaxing her to shift more closely against him. She rested her head on his chest and he snaked his right arm in front of her to cup her opposite cheek in his palm. His thumb stroked her skin, his head tilting to rest on top of hers.

Several long minutes went by before he felt her smile against him.

"You put on your undershirt," she said, suddenly becoming aware of the presence of the white cotton beneath her cheek.

"I was promised dinner," he replied through his smile.

"No one is stopping you from eating."

"Says the very beautiful woman with her head on my chest."

She opted not to point out the fact that he was the one who had initiated the contact, and instead reluctantly straightened with a slight grumble. They remained in close proximity, their sides and limbs brushing against each other as they attempted to turn their attention to their dinner. Neither had eaten a true meal all day and although the food was now lukewarm at best, the sustenance was welcome.

When they finished, they shoved the leftovers in the fridge and deposited the plates and utensils in the sink, neither one of them caring to do more than the basic necessities given the late hour. Instead, they curled up on the couch in a similar position to their one on the floor, Elliot's arm around Olivia, her head resting against him and her legs folded to the side. Elliot was nursing the remnants of Olivia's beer that she'd handed his way, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

They had fallen back into silence, once again listening to the sound of the rain. It had attenuated somewhat, still falling steadily but more gently than before. It had a somewhat meditative effect, ever-present but not intrusive. While the sound itself might have lulled them into calm, it also lent itself to a contemplative mood, and given all that they had been through, the thoughts that cycled through their minds were complicated and tumultuous.

They had been trying to hold onto the feeling of peace that had settled upon them after their intimate moments together. It hadn't been a permanent escape from the weight of the present, but they had wanted to cling to the lighthearted mood for as long as it lasted. The blissful moments had added yet another layer of complexity to all that they were trying to process. In some ways, this had been one of the best nights of their lives, but in others, the most damaging. It was difficult for each of them to reconcile the two extremes, waves of emotion crashing into them from all sides.

It was impossible to come to terms with where they were now without thinking about the beginning, and although unspoken, both of their thoughts had returned to the night of the undercover. Flashes of recollections asserted themselves in their minds with a piercing clarity, yet this time they were centered upon all that they had witnessed rather than what they themselves had endured. They remembered the feeling of foreboding in the atmosphere; the pervasive darkness in the club that felt oppressive and sinister. They thought of the number of women and girls that had been subjected to untold levels of torment within those walls. They had witnessed a handful of assaults - the pole dancer on the stage, the women behind the glass - but they now knew the numbers of those affected had been much, much greater.

That knowledge should have given them some solace. Their actions that night had led to the identification and apprehension of an extensive network of perpetrators and to the rescue of so many victims. Their impact would be far-reaching - an accomplishment that was much greater than their attempts to save a single little girl. But the outcome felt hollow to each of them.

Lara had always been much more than a number. Somewhere along the line, she had become the embodiment of the hope that the war they waged on a daily basis was worth it. That their efforts weren't in vain. That compassion and empathy could restore trust in a world that had otherwise been proven to contain nothing but pain and suffering. Lara had experienced the worst, yet she had shown each of them a strength of spirit and resiliency that had made each of them want to stay in the fight. She had wanted to survive. She had wanted to heal.

That was perhaps the most bitter pill to swallow. It was unfathomable that her chance had been stolen from her.

Olivia's arm was draped over Elliot's chest and she slipped it around him even further to hold onto him more securely.

"I'm glad that you're here, El," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I would have done if..." She trailed off, unsure of what followed. If he were just her partner? If she'd gotten the call and had been completely alone?

Elliot set his bottle aside, wrapping her up with both of his arms to hold her more closely against him. "It's the same for me, Liv," he said. "I don't know if you realize how much I need you too." He kissed the top of her head, one of his hands running along her arm. "I should tell you that more often."

Olivia closed her eyes, fighting to suppress the images of Lara that immediately sprang to mind and tried, instead, to focus on the rise and fall of Elliot's chest beneath her. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "I'm so tired, El."

He heard the waver in her tone and immediately understood the broader meaning behind her words. "I know," he rasped.

He shifted his hand to cup her cheek in his palm, his thumb periodically swiping away the silent tears that were escaping. Her breathing was even, there was nothing overt that would have drawn his attention to their presence, but he knew her, and these tears were emanating from a place that was so deep within her that it was if her grief were slowly seeping out of an invisible wound that could no longer contain her sorrow.

When she spoke again, her voice contained a hesitancy and fragility that almost stopped him from breathing.

"Sometimes I don't know if I can do this anymore."

He considered her words, trying to imagine what path Olivia might take if she were to walk away. Yet even as the thought entered his mind, he knew that she would never truly be able to do so. She could try to change divisions, even turn in her badge and her gun, but at the end of the day, she would never be able to leave the victims behind. Olivia's ability to connect with people at their most vulnerable was a gift, her passion and her advocacy for justice on their behalf not just a job but a calling. It was her compassion and empathy that made her the best at what she did, though these same qualities had led her to this place of grief and despair. It was because of her openness and her heart that Lara had been able to trust her, yet it was impossible for Olivia to have accomplished this without giving away parts of herself in the process. The academy drilled in caveats about professional boundaries, the risks of getting overly attached, the ways in which emotional detachment could help stave off burnout and preserve objectivity, but all the training in the world wouldn't change the fact that Olivia wasn't built that way. She had loved that little girl, and perhaps more importantly, Lara had needed it. They both had. Elliot had watched the bond develop and had done nothing to intervene, because what the training books didn't understand was that sometimes emotional detachment was detrimental...even if Olivia's compassion had set her up for an even greater fall.

Even in the absence of Lara, Olivia had reason to feel the way she did. Elliot had felt it himself at times - complete and utter physical and emotional exhaustion that left one feeling so depleted that the very thought of taking on anything more felt insurmountable. Now knowing what he did, he couldn't imagine how Olivia had been sustaining the pace that she had been in the aftermath of Sealview let alone all that she had endured over the course of the past week. Her need to be present for Lara had likely been the factor that had kept the adrenaline flowing, preventing her from succumbing to her fatigue.

"Cragen wants us to take some time," he ultimately responded, his left hand continuing to drift soothingly along the curve of her arm. "After that, whatever you need - a leave...a change...anything - I'll support you."

She nodded, the stubborn tears still slowly seeping out one by one to be absorbed by the cotton of his shirt or to be brushed away by the gentle swipes of his thumb.

"Give yourself some time, Liv," he urged softly. "You've been pushing yourself so hard." He shook his head at all that she had been subjected to of late - the physical and emotional blows she had sustained, the control that had been stolen from her. "Let me do that overprotective thing you hate so much," he nudged, "take care of you for a change."

She breathed a laugh through her tears.

"I'm good at it...if you'll let me," he added gently.

"Maybe," she murmured noncommittally.

Elliot took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, something about the way her body was curled into his side evoking the memory of their ride from the club to the woods the night of the undercover. It had been the first time in their partnership that she'd sought comfort in his arms - the first time that she had allowed herself to be vulnerable in his presence.

"Do you remember the ride to the Catskills?" he asked after a pause.

She nodded slowly. "Not my finest moment," she said self-deprecatingly.

He sighed. "Liv...you say that, but I wish you understood how much I needed that moment."

"What do you mean?"

His hands stilled against her momentarily as he tried to find his words. "It gave me hope, Liv. I thought..." he swallowed, remembering the immensity of the guilt and self-loathing he'd felt at having caused her such harm. "I thought I'd destroyed everything that night. After everything I'd said and done..." He cleared his throat. "I thought you'd never forgive me. But when you curled into me - like this," he added, giving her a gentle squeeze, his hands resuming their slow caresses once more, "it gave me hope that I might find a way to earn your trust back."

"Elliot-"

"If you could trust me to take care of you in that moment, after everything I'd put you through, I thought maybe I'd have a chance in hell at making things right." He cradled her head more closely against his chest, his fingers weaving into her hair and his thumb tracing the shell of her ear. "It was a gift, Liv. Being allowed to take care of you is a gift."

"Okay," she breathed.

"Okay?" There was a trace of surprise in his tone, as if he'd been gearing up for a bigger battle of wills.

"Yeah."

"Thank you," he said, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

"But I never stopped trusting you, El."

He smiled. " _There's_ the fight..." It came at him from a different angle.

"I'm just saying," she said defiantly.

"Okay."

He had verbalized an agreement, but to her ears it sounded conciliatory and unconvinced. She pushed herself up, his hand sliding from her hair to her upper back as she lifted her head far enough to be able to meet his gaze. "I have never trusted anyone more, El. Physically and emotionally - in that room and out of it - I have always trusted you." She looked back and forth between his eyes, trying to read him. She wouldn't let this be one of his uncertainties when it couldn't be further from the truth. Nothing he had done in that room had ever impacted her trust in him. It had taken her a while to understand the root of her fear, but she now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it hadn't stemmed from a distrust in Elliot but rather her recognition of her lack of control as a whole. She hadn't had control over her own body - hadn't been able to protect herself. Yet while he'd been forced to use his strength against her for the sake of their cover, she'd never truly feared for her physical safety. Not from him.

" _Always_ , Elliot," she urged.

"Okay," he nodded, gratitude in his expression as he accepted what she was so earnestly attempting to convey. He bowed his head, lightly touching his lips to hers before straightening again to meet her gaze. "I love you, Benson," he said with emotion, his hand smoothing over her hair.

She nodded with a small smile that contained a hint of bashfulness that made him fall just a little bit more.

He reached for her hand, their fingers interlocking. "You ready for bed?"

She arched a brow and the grin that spread across his face was contagious.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know you didn't," she said with amusement, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his cheek before pushing herself up to stand with a tired sigh.

He joined her, pausing to turn off the table lamp and following her down the darkened hallway into the bathroom. She crouched down to sift through the contents of a low drawer by the sink until she found a new toothbrush, handing it to him to extricate it from the packaging as she put toothpaste on her own. He easily ripped it open and she smiled around the toothbrush in her mouth.

"What?" he asked, taking the toothpaste from her hand.

"Nothing," came her muffled reply. "I just always have to stab the back with something to get those out."

"It's perforated, Benson."

"Supposedly." She rolled her eyes.

Conversation was lost as they brushed their teeth, but it was Elliot's turn to smile as she stooped to spit, raising her hand as she did so to obstruct his view.

She caught his eye in the mirror when she straightened, shooting him a glare of warning as she rinsed off her toothbrush, tapping it against the sink a couple of times before slipping it into the holder to her left.

He wisely refrained from commenting, but when he bent forward to spit he mirrored her actions, garnering him a light smack along the back of his head.

"Didn't say a thing," he muttered with a barely suppressed smile.

When they entered her bedroom, she paused, the newness of everything leading to a degree of uncertainty that she hadn't felt since the night Elliot had revealed that her feelings were reciprocated. They had been sharing a bed for days, and yet somehow it felt as though the rules had changed now that the boundaries had evaporated.

Elliot stood slightly behind her, his palms coming to rest on her shoulders. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied easily, her hands lifting to cover his own. It wasn't anxiety she was feeling - not like before - just hesitation. She leaned back against him, feeling exhaustion creep around her like a thick fog. "So...how do we do this?"

"I'm pretty sure we lie down."

His words continued their earlier banter, but his tone was gentle.

She chuckled, shaking her head where it rested against his shoulder, then promptly stifled a yawn.

He kissed the side of her head. "I do have some restraint, Benson," he said softly. "How would you normally sleep?"

"Probably without the sweats," she mumbled sleepily.

They were past the point of self-imposed barriers. Olivia had demonstrated as much the night prior, yet they still each felt a need to tread lightly into this territory.

"Just get comfortable, Liv."

He ran his thumbs along her shoulder blades, giving her a gentle squeeze before slipping his hands out from beneath hers.

She rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes, walking over to the opposite side of the bed where she shimmied the cotton over her hips before sitting to pull them the rest of the way off. She lay down onto her back, watching as Elliot pulled his undershirt overhead before slipping beneath the covers to join her.

His hand found hers, tugging gently but insistently until she moved into his warmth, her head on his shoulder and her arm and leg draped over the frame of his body. He enveloped her into his arms, his lips brushing against her forehead.

Her eyes immediately drifted closed and she let out an utterance of contentment, inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly.

"See?" he said softly. "Just like this."

She made another unintelligible sound of acknowledgement, relaxing even further into him as his hand traced slow circles along her lower back.

Elliot felt himself start to drift off as well, lulled into calm by the slow breaths she was expelling against him, and the feel of her nestled into his side. He had thought she had fallen asleep when her breathing changed and her voice met his ears.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah."

"Love you."

"I love you too, Liv."


	26. Chapter 26

(**If it's been a while, please re-read from at least Chapter 24... That's my blood, sweat, and tears chapter, and it is what leads to all of the processing going on in this one...**) HUGE apologies for the delay in updating. I felt a bit frozen again after the last chapter, and then a handful of (nagging) friends coaxed me to get swept up in an Oz crossover story that I've been updating privately via email share, and that sent me down the Keller rabbit hole again. (Not gonna lie... That's a hard rabbit hole to leave behind...) At any rate, if you're reading Breaking Point, but have been lurking, please consider de-lurking to let me know your thoughts about the story. I hope that for those of you who are still hanging in there with me and following this to the end, that it's evolving in a way that makes sense to you and to the EO healing process... Much love... xo, Jessica

(PS - Music I listened to while writing much of this was 'Between these Hands' by Asaf Avidan from 'Music Inspired by the Film Roma'. Again, for mood...not lyrics.)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six**

Olivia's eyes snapped open somewhere between the dark of night and the glimmer of dawn, rain still tapping insistently against the windowpanes. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her mind spinning in the aftermath of a disjointed out-of-control dream. She couldn't remember the specifics, just knew that whatever had been contributing to her fitful sleep had not been pleasant. Elliot was still sleeping soundly, his left arm draped over her torso.

Her mind muddled from fatigue, Olivia tried to get a glimpse of the clock on the bedside table, her first impulse being to check the time to figure out when Lara's pain meds were due in case they could catch her at a wakeful moment...and then she remembered with a sickening clarity that there would _be_ no more wakeful moments, and the grief crashed over her once more.

She stared up at the ceiling, somewhat trapped beneath the weight of Elliot's arm, but she didn't want to try to move for fear of waking him. Her eyes were burning and her chest ached, the emptiness and longing hitting her at full force as she remembered the quiet giggle Lara had uttered at Elliot's playful attempts at identifying the figures in her drawings. It had been a glimpse of possibility - of the life that Lara might have led had she remained safe from harm.

Olivia's blinks became more frequent as she tried to stifle the moisture starting to form, but the more she thought of that moment, the more she thought about how close they'd come...how much had been lost...

The tears fell slowly at first, escaping out of the sides of her eyes to slip over her temples and onto her pillow, but as the grief intensified, so did the jerking motion of her diaphragm which ultimately roused Elliot from his slumber.

He raised his head with some disorientation, his heart breaking as he took in her silent sobs. He drew himself more closely into her, his arm remaining over her but shifting upward so that he could cup her cheek in his palm, his thumb gently swiping away her tears.

Her hand lifted to clutch onto his wrist, taking a long, shuddering inhale as she tried to force air into her lungs.

Elliot supported his weight on his right arm, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead before trailing his lips lower, brushing along the moisture on her cheek before repeating the action on the opposite side. His kisses were tender, taking the place of words left unspoken. He lightly touched his lips to hers, absorbing her pressured exhales and trying to replace them with calm. He pulled back just far enough to meet her gaze, his expression holding compassion and regret.

She looked up at him with a mixture of anguish and need, her hand gripping onto his wrist more tightly. "Elliot," she choked out through jerky breaths, her voice containing so much pain that it caused his own eyes to burn in shared grief.

He shifted his weight onto his forearms so that he could frame her face in his hands, his torso moving over hers with the slightest contact as he closed the distance to brush his lips against hers once more. He poured every ounce of the love he felt for her into his gentle caresses, tracing her upper, then her lower lip with his own, giving her the space to breathe and to grieve while he tried to soothe her.

Her sobs were as intense as ever, though she barely made a sound, her chest shaking beneath his and her tears coating his palms.

Olivia's knuckles were white with the intensity of her grasp, clutching onto him in a desperate attempt at regaining her control, but all she could process was the overwhelming feeling of loss. It went beyond mere emotion, her chest physically aching from a visceral level of despair. Occasionally small whimpers escaped her throat, sometimes hanging in the air, sometimes muffled by Elliot's mouth as she returned his kisses.

 _I don't want to think._

Her words echoed in Elliot's mind.

He was flooded by emotion, the love and protectiveness he felt for her eclipsing all else. In that moment, everything seemed to still. He felt more attuned to her than ever before and as his mind slowed, so did his caresses. His kisses transformed into something languid and full of intent, his movements controlled and imbued with the calm that Olivia was so desperately trying to attain. He trailed kisses along her jawline, wanting nothing more than to take away the pain.

She felt the shift even through the haze of emotion, shutting her eyes as she tried to block out everything but the feel of him, his touch, his scent.

His lips dragged over the shell of her ear, the warmth of his breath causing goosebumps to stand out along her skin. His mouth trailed lower, his teeth lightly raking over her earlobe as his tongue darted out in their wake. As his mouth descended to suckle along her pulse point, he heard a hitch in her breathing that was separate from her sobs. She turned her head to the side to further bare her neck to him, her lips brushing against his palm and the breaths she was expelling drying the lingering tears that dampened his skin.

He continued to hold the bulk of his weight up and off of her as he moved further down her body, but he felt the scrape of her nipples through the thin cotton that separated them, more or less apparent with the rise and fall of her chest beneath his. He moved lower, the heat of his breath causing another shiver to run through her as he hovered over her breast, and then his mouth closed over her through the fabric.

She arched into him, moaning softly into his palm as his thumb brushed along her brow, increasingly losing herself to the sensations he was causing. His hand drifted down the frame of her body to mirror his actions on the other side, his touch gentle as he dragged his thumb over the swell of her before focusing his attentions on deftly manipulating her nipple until she was writhing beneath his touch. Olivia was becoming so sensitized by his actions that every touch was causing shockwaves of pleasure to reach her core. She gasped, her thighs reflexively tightening against his leg that was wedged between hers, and he lowered his weight a bit more so that his thigh pressed more firmly against her. Her hips bucked against him at the contact, a tremor coursing through her as the motion caused her to rub against him more intimately. She hadn't put undergarments back on earlier, and the friction of the cotton against her bare center amplified her body's response that much more.

Elliot stifled a groan, his erection pressing achingly into her hip. He could feel the heat of her and longed to rock himself against her but he held himself back, wanting this to be about Olivia's needs alone. He felt her body shifting, her awareness of his arousal causing her to try to move beneath him to offer him relief, but he further took the control into his hands and brought his other leg between her own, nudging hers farther apart so that he was kneeling between them. He slowly lightened his contact with her breasts, his hand brushing soothingly over the contour of her cheek, and then he pushed himself back, his mouth dragging over her abdomen as he slowly eased himself down her body.

Olivia's sobs had almost subsided, her mind pulled back into the present as she focused on the feel of his hands smoothing down over her ribcage, her torso, her pelvis, running along the curve of her hips to meet the bare skin of her outer thighs. Yet it was when his hands slowed and reversed course, collecting her shirt with their upward movement and exposing her lower body to his waiting gaze that she tensed, her hand flying down to grip onto his shoulder.

"El," she said somewhat apprehensively, recognizing his intent.

His hands stilled against her, his thumbs lightly caressing her hipbones as he lifted his head just far enough to meet her gaze.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her eyes locked on his with a conflicting mixture of desire and unease. Of all of the acts in the bedroom, this was the one that she found to be the most intimate and perhaps because of that, it had always made her feel the most vulnerable. It wasn't something that she had allowed many partners to do, mostly because of the fact that her lack of trust had led her to feel too exposed to be able to relax in the moment, and therefore unable to fully let herself go.

She bit her lip, unsure of what she wanted to say to him to effectively explain her trepidation.

Elliot crawled back up her body to frame her face in his hands, his eyes hovering just inches above hers. He kissed her tenderly, nuzzling her nose as he met her gaze once more. "I love you, Olivia. Body, mind and soul." His voice was low and soothing, barely loud enough to carry over the sound of the rain. "I want to make you feel good... I want to make everything else fade away." His lips dragged against hers again, his eyes dark with desire. "You're beautiful, Liv. I love every part of you." He swallowed, trying to keep himself in check. "Trust me with this? Please?"

Olivia stared up at him, transfixed by all that she could see in his eyes. She was struck by the realization that all of the layers of emotion he was conveying were familiar to her, the only difference being the presence of the uncensored need. Throughout their partnership, they never crossed the line, careful to avoid physical contact and preserve boundaries, but the one thing they hadn't been able to control was the depth of emotion revealed in their moments of shared silent communication. They had always seen one another - fully and deeply. What Olivia hadn't realized at the time was that she wasn't inventing or misinterpreting things. Now that she knew Elliot's feelings, it all somehow seemed so clear. So simple. She felt insulated with him in this moment. Safe.

"Okay," she replied, her soft voice still gravelly in the aftermath of so many tears, but holding a degree of calm surrender that granted him the peace of mind to continue.

He held her gaze for another long moment suspended in time, and then slowly and mindfully began kissing his way back down her body, his mouth and hands eliciting a tingling warmth that seemed to flow through her more strongly with every inch of his continued descent. He was moving impossibly slowly and Olivia's heart was hammering in her chest, her mind overloaded by sensation and the anticipation of what was to come. _"It's Elliot,"_ she told herself as a means to reassure herself. _"It's Elliot."_ Yet the thought brought about another rush of heat and adrenaline. A decade of memories assailed her in an instant, the magnitude of what they had shared and were embarking upon hitting her again at full force. He was everything.

She was trembling by the time his lips ghosted over her lower abdomen, his warm hands curving around her hips and his thumbs lightly massaging the dips of her pelvis. His tongue intermittently met her skin, his breath eliciting goosebumps in its wake. He moved even more slowly as his mouth lingered along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, his hands slipping beneath her and his arms wrapping around her legs to pull her more closely to him. He gently coaxed her to open herself to him more fully with the slight pressure of his shoulders and palms, his cheek nuzzling her inner thigh as he made eye contact with her once more. He could feel the lingering tension in her body, could see trust battling trepidation in her dark eyes, and he tried to soothe her again.

"It's me, Liv," he breathed, as if reading her mind.

"I know," she murmured, emotion pervading her tone.

His thumbs smoothed over her skin, his eyes holding hers.

She felt another surge of anxiety, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming to her even before he'd made a motion to continue. His name fell from her lips in a tremulous whisper, her hands drifting to his shoulders once more, but then his tongue lightly stroked her while he simultaneously caressed her with his lips and his breath and all power of thought and speech was lost. The pleasure was all encompassing, her head tipping backward as she arched off of the mattress, her hands slipping from his shoulders to fall to her sides.

His touch was feather-light, easing her into comfort with the gentle ministrations of his lips and tongue. His hands gently massaged her thighs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin at the juncture of her pelvis as he held her open to his gaze. He felt the moment that she succumbed to the sensations, her body relaxing into his touch and his breath until he no longer needed to hold her in place. A soft utterance escaped her lips as he deepened the contact, his tongue teasing her entrance before encircling her clit. Her hips rocked forward almost imperceptibly, her hands curling onto the sheet beneath her as he repeated his actions, her body responding to his touch beyond her conscious intent.

Olivia felt the tension steadily building in her core, overcome by the mental component of what it meant that this was transpiring as much as by the skilled manipulation of his mouth against her center. Her heartbeat was registering as a throb between her legs, her inner muscles responding to the languid strokes of his tongue. She was struggling to hold still, her hands clutching onto the sheet more tightly and her breathing becoming more uneven. It was too much to process - Elliot, their history, the physical outpouring of his love and protection that was tethering her to him so completely.

The muscles in her abdomen were trembling, the movements of her hips becoming more pronounced despite her efforts to hold back, but Elliot knew her too well - knew that she was trying to cling onto that last thread of her control, and he wouldn't stop until he made her let go. He needed her to understand that she was safe with him in every single way, that she was finally with the one person that she could trust not to break her. His left hand splayed across her abdomen in a soothing gesture, his right drifting from her thigh to her center. He stroked her gently, lingering at her entrance as he wordlessly communicated his intent, and then he slowly penetrated her with two fingers as his mouth closed over her clit, eliciting a strangled moan from her as she arched into him more sharply. He didn't give her a moment to catch her breath, his fingers moving inside of her slowly but perpetually dragging against her upper wall, his mouth and tongue never ceasing their gentle caresses.

She was bucking and arching into his touch, whimpers of pleasure escaping almost constantly now in time with his rhythmic movements. He had her now; she was completely under his control, all vestiges of awareness and self-consciousness evaporating as she fully lost herself to his touch. He added a third finger, stretching her to a point of blissful tension that caused her back to arch off of the mattress so sharply that she momentarily remained suspended in midair, the moan that escaped having transformed into something unrestrained and powerful. He curled his fingers upward to apply even more pressure against the sensitive spot on her inner wall, the thrusts of his hand continuing a relentless rhythm that was building her up more and more strongly along with the concurrent strokes of his tongue. The sounds that Olivia was making were now a constant stream of whimpers and moans that were almost keening in their intensity, her walls no longer releasing him but closing around him more and more tightly as she hurtled toward the edge. She was holding him in place to such an extent that he no longer attempted to withdraw, instead rotating his fingers to massage her over and over again as her moans became louder and more urgent. He was intoxicated by her warmth and her scent and the sweetness of her that he had only ever dared dream of before, and he moaned against her from the overload of all that he was thinking and feeling at once.

Olivia gasped, the vibration of his mouth against her eliciting a shockwave of sensation that was so powerful that it momentarily caused her to freeze in place, and then she was plummeting over the edge, her thighs clamping around his head and her limbs trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. Her voice returned to her midway through her climax, what had been a silent heaving breath transforming into shuddering pleas as he continued his subtle motions in and around her and prevented her from coming down. She couldn't stop herself from shaking, couldn't stop her inner muscles from spasming, and just when she thought she couldn't take anymore sensation she felt another crest building even more powerfully and rapidly than the last. She was losing her voice again, her moans transforming into high pitched gasps as she hurtled toward the precipice of an even greater fall, and when she shattered the pleasure was so intense that she felt like she was soaring and falling at once, unable to do anything but ride out the waves of a seemingly endless tide.

Little by little Elliot eased her down, carefully withdrawing his fingers from her one at a time...gradually lessening the strokes of his tongue and the contact of his mouth until all that remained was the steady warmth of his palm against her abdomen and the feather-light caresses of his lips against her center. He trailed gentle kisses up her body, holding his weight up and off of her as he made his ascent. He brushed his lips against the column of her throat, the line of her jaw, placing the slightest of kisses to her parted lips before lowering himself on his right side and enveloping her into his embrace.

Olivia immediately nestled into his warmth, holding onto him tightly as she tried to catch her breath, unconsciously seeking the reassurance of his proximity - tangible proof that he was there, that this was real, that they had survived the threats and the trauma and that he hadn't been taken away from her.

She was trembling slightly, partly from the intensity of her release and partly from the jumble of emotions and recollections that assailed her as her faculties gradually returned to her.

Elliot adjusted his arms to hold her more securely, cradling the back of her head in his palm and tucking her more closely into the crux of his neck.

"Shh," he whispered against her temple, and it was only then that she became aware that her tears had started falling again, less from sadness and more from an overwhelming awareness of her need for him...for this.

"You are so loved," he murmured, rocking her almost imperceptibly where they lay.

She nodded against him, taking in a shuddering attempt at a deeper inhale and letting it out slowly. Her shirt was bunched at her waist, her lower body exposed where his was clothed, while the heat from his bare chest was permeating the thin cotton that separated them. It was hardly the most contact that they had shared this evening, yet Olivia was struck by how she felt closer to him than ever before, and completely safe in a way that she hadn't believed would have ever been possible again in the aftermath of all that she had weathered.

There was so much she wanted to say to him, but the words were not forthcoming, so she merely held onto him with a parallel level of intensity that she hoped would convey her sentiments.

Her breathing gradually evened, Elliot's fingers lightly stroking her scalp where they had woven into her hair. As the minutes stretched on, his hand lazily skimmed down the smooth skin of her lower back, over the curve of her ass and the underside of her thigh. He felt her smile against his collarbone and he found himself smiling in return.

"Sorry," he spoke through his smile.

She shook her head against him. "El, you officially have carte blanche to touch me without apologizing."

His grin broadened. "I do, huh?"

She chuckled. "I'm going to live to regret that statement, aren't I?" she asked rhetorically.

"Oh, I don't know..." he pretended to mull it over, his hand absently tracing circles on her skin. "It's not like I would use your words against you in the precinct..."

"No?"

"Certainly not in interrogation...or the cribs...or the rooftop..."

She cleared her throat lightly, her voice quieting and becoming breathier despite her best attempts at seeming unaffected by his words. "Right...and it goes without saying that you wouldn't touch me in the elevator...or Cragen's office...or the squad car."

His fingers reflexively tightened in her hair. "Christ, Liv. You thought about..."

"You didn't?"

It was his turn to clear his throat. "I didn't say that," he admitted somewhat uncomfortably.

She ran her palm along the planes of his back, the curve of her lips still prominent against his collarbone even as she tried to ease his conscience. "We never acted on anything Elliot," she said softly. "Fantasies are...just that," she shrugged, trying to lessen the significance.

"Maybe..." he replied quietly, his tone taking on a slightly pained quality.

Olivia recognized it immediately and her brow furrowed in concern. "El?"

 _How many times did you fantasize about ripping off her clothes before we finally gave you that opportunity?_

Elliot said nothing and it only increased her concern.

"El, what is it?"

 _How many nights did you come inside of your wife, all the while imagining that it was Olivia beneath you?_

He swallowed, his throat tight and his breathing shallow. "Nothing, Liv."

She frowned, arching back insistently as she forced him to slip his hand from her hair, searching his eyes for an unspoken explanation as to what was troubling him, but unable to read him. "Try again," she pressed quietly.

Elliot unconsciously worked his lower lip, his eyes becoming somewhat unfocused as he sifted through the memory, the guilt slicing through him just as strongly as it had back in the club.

"Please?" she whispered, her thumb caressing his shoulder blade.

Elliot took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his brows knit slightly with regret. "When we were in the club...the second time," he qualified, waiting for her nod before he continued. "Petrov said some things to me that...hit a little too close to home."

Olivia looked back at him intently, her expression equal parts confusion and concern.

"You, uh... You couldn't hear him through the glass. I knew that," he paused, a flicker of guilt crossing over his features. "I was grateful for that," he rasped.

"Elliot, just tell me. Whatever it is, it's okay," she soothed.

He breathed a sad laugh. "It _isn't_ okay, Liv. Petrov... What he said..." he grimaced. "He wasn't wrong...and I felt like such a piece of shit."

"Elliot?" she repeated, a tinge of frustration in her tone.

He sighed. "He just... He made some comments about my having wanted you," his voice quieted even more, "having thought about you when I was..." he trailed off, scrubbing his palm over his face.

Olivia said nothing, but resumed the slow caresses of her hand against his back, waiting for him to continue.

When he spoke again, his voice was strained and almost inaudible. "...when I was intimate with Kathy."

Shame was etched in his features and Olivia wanted to fix things somehow. "Elliot you-"

He shook his head to cut her off, his voice thick with emotion. "I had, Liv. Lots of times. He wasn't wrong...and he called me on it. Not just that," he hesitated, looking uncertainly between her eyes.

"What else, El?" she asked, her demeanor calm and free of judgment.

"He knew that...that after the undercover, I had thought about you, Liv." His brows knit further in an almost painful expression, the guilt he was feeling making it hard to force the words to the surface. "The way you felt...the way you..." He shook his head, unable to continue.

She placed a palm against his cheek, her expression holding nothing but acceptance and empathy. "Elliot, I had thought about you too...before and after. It doesn't mean we wanted it to happen that way." She looked at him intently, trying to make him see.

"Petrov said that given the chance, I would have done it all over again, but I _wouldn't_ have, Liv. God, I would _never_ have...never again. Not the undercover. But I felt so damned guilty, because I...I didn't regret it Liv. I regretted the way it unfolded, how horribly I treated you, how I..." his voice broke. "How I failed you."

"El-"

"But being with you?" He shook his head. "I never regretted that. I could never have."

"Me neither," she soothed, brushing her fingertips over his brow to try to rid it of the tension.

"I'm so sorry, Liv," he said huskily.

"For what?" she said evenly. "No matter what fantasies you might have had, nothing made any of this your fault, El. You didn't take advantage. You tried to talk me _out_ of the undercover since day one."

"I know that. I just-"

"You just what?" she challenged. "If Petrov or Kane had said that to me? If they had accused me of wanting you...of entrapping you somehow, would you have blamed me?"

"Of course not, but-"

"But _nothing_ , El. Petrov was a manipulative son of a bitch who wanted to make us suffer. If he'd pointed his accusations at me? Yeah, I'd be guilty for having fantasized about you while you were married, but I would never have crossed the line any more than you would have."

"Okay," he replied gruffly.

"God, El," she breathed, suddenly struck by the thought of how much more damaging this would have been had the undercover occurred when he was still married. "If you'd still been with Kathy, I-" her voice broke. "I would never have forgiven myself if you'd been forced to-"

He heard the emotion in her tone and pulled her back into his embrace. "Hey, don't even go there, Liv. I wasn't...and Nikolai would have been the one responsible. Let's just agree that we wouldn't have blamed each other for any of this, okay?"

She nodded.

"Okay."

Silence descended upon them, leaving them with their thoughts and the patter of the rain. Elliot's hand was stroking her hair, and Olivia was trying to focus on the repetitive gesture as a means to stop herself from spiraling again. She didn't think she could have survived the aftermath without him by her side. Had that been an impossibility, she wasn't sure that she could have recovered...wasn't sure that either of them would have been able to repair all that had been ripped apart that night.

"Don't go there, Liv," he repeated softly, once again knowing her better than she knew herself.

"I know," she replied, her voice gravelly. "I just...after everything, the thought of not having this-"

"Is not something you ever have to worry about."

She nodded, but the motion held a degree of conflict.

"I get it, Liv," he conceded after a pause. "When he'd taken you, my mind went to all of the same places."

"Yeah," she murmured, her mind flitting back to the hours of captivity she'd endured. "I'm just...grateful for you...for this."

"Me too, Liv. More than you know."

They held one another, saying nothing and trying to absorb the calm that came about from the feel of each other's warmth and the slow rhythm of their breathing that came to be one and the same.

"So, uh..." Elliot's voice eventually broke the silence. "The squad car, huh?"

His question caught her off guard and she laughed more freely than either of them had in a long while.

"Seriously?"

"On it or in it?" he teased.

"Both," she replied without hesitation.

"Christ," he repeated on his exhale.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes, though he couldn't see it. "So, uh... the interrogation room."

He chuckled. "Yeah?"

"Am I the perp or the cop?"

"Both, Liv," he whispered into her ear.

"Fuck," she breathed.

"Plenty of time, Benson..." he murmured against her.

The significance of his words slowly sank into her weary mind. It had only been one long evening. It was hard to conceptualize just how much had changed for them over the course of the day. She drew back ever so slightly, just far enough to meet his gaze. Her hand lifted to rest against his neck, her delicate fingers curving around his nape. She saw the love in his expression and she closed the slight distance between them to kiss him once more. She could taste the faint traces of herself on his tongue and her heartbeat quickened in recognition. It was hard to believe she wasn't dreaming.

Their mouths parted slowly, trading gentle kisses that held the promise of tomorrow. The sky was lightening beyond the glass, daybreak creeping steadfastly across the room, but exhaustion was increasingly descending upon them with every passing minute. Olivia tucked herself back into the warmth of his chest, one of Elliot's hands returning to her hair and the other smoothing slowly along the curve of her spine.

"Are you... You didn't..." she stammered as a belated afterthought, the sudden awareness breaking through her fatigue.

Elliot smiled gently at her concern, his thumb and forefinger lightly stroking her neck. "Don't worry about me, Liv. I just wanted to take care of you. Okay?"

She nodded, stifling a yawn.

Elliot reached down to take hold of the covers, drawing them up and around them so that Olivia wouldn't feel exposed. He could have pulled the hem of her shirt down over her hips again, but was too intoxicated by the softness of her skin to have the willpower to cover her completely. His hand slid up the expanse of her back, skimming beneath her shirt and along the valley between her shoulder blades before reversing course again, his palm flattening against her lower back and ultimately coming to rest on the curve of her ass. He wasn't consciously trying to cop a feel, but it felt calming somehow to be able to touch her more intimately now as opposed to the nights they'd shared a bed for comfort while trying desperately to respect the line in the sand. That he had her permission to touch her...that she felt safe with his proximity and her present state of undress, meant more to him than she would ever know.

Her body language remained relaxed, her head growing heavier against his arm and Elliot's hands stilling against her as sleep slowly claimed each of them once more.

* * *

Olivia awoke shortly before noon, this time having slept deeply and dreamlessly as exhaustion took hold. Elliot was still sleeping peacefully, the rise and fall of his chest steady and even beneath her cheek, but a hint of a smile touched her lips when she felt the telltale signs that one part of his body was not so unaware of her presence. They had remained more or less in the same position as before, though he was now fully on his back, her body draped over his and his hand still curved around her bare skin. It was as if even in slumber he wanted to maintain the intimate connection they had established, and the combination of the warmth of his palm, the recollections from the night prior, and the feel of his arousal beneath her thigh brought about another pang of yearning.

She tried to rein in her thoughts, knowing that he was as sleep-deprived as she was and not wanting to disturb him. She remained perfectly still for another minute or two, but ultimately moved slightly to adjust the position of her head on his chest, and her efforts had the unintentional secondary effect of causing her leg to shift against him. His fingers reflexively tightened around her in response, his hips lifting slightly as he unconsciously sought closer contact.

She couldn't stop herself, testing the waters as she intentionally slid her thigh against his length with a light but purposeful movement. He hummed a low groan of pleasure on his exhale, caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness as he pulsed against her. Olivia gave in to temptation, lifting herself up to hover above him on all fours as her lips brushed lazily over the planes of his chest.

He made another small utterance of encouragement as she teased him with her lips and her breath, his hands starting to smooth up along her sides, not fully awake but starting to drift further into the present.

She slowly kissed her way down the ridges of his abdomen, her tongue teasing the deep lines of his pelvis as his hands tangled in her hair.

His eyes blinked open just as she slowly undid the drawstring of his sweats, her fingers hooking beneath the waistband to drag them over his hips as her mouth lingered on the lowest point of his abdomen, his exposed length knocking against the warmth of her neck.

"Liv," he rasped as her palms ran upward along his thighs, her thumbs teasing the sensitive skin at the innermost juncture of his thighs and groin. His breath escaped as a ragged exhale, his hips shifting beneath her as she made it impossible for him to hold still.

Her left hand drifted inward, cupping him gently as her right loosely curved around his length, teasing him with the slightest touch as her mouth descended just far enough for the head of his erection to brush the fullness of her lower lip.

Her dark eyes were locked on his, her head subtly turning from side to side with the slightest motion as she dragged her lip against him, her mouth parted in an agonizing glimpse of what he recognized her intent to be.

"God, Liv...I..." His words trailed off into a groan, his hands fisting more desperately into her hair as she opened her mouth more fully, teasing him with a sustained exhale as the heat of her breath flowed over him and another rush of blood coursed south.

Her hand skimmed lazily up and down his length, still with only the slightest amount of contact, her left hand massaging him gently and feeling the weight of him in her palm.

"Fuck, Liv... You don't-"

Her lips followed the path of her hand, just barely grazing his length on a slow descent before reversing course again, tracing the ridge of him as she spoke. "Tell me 'yes', El."

The lines of his muscles were standing out against his arms and torso as he struggled to keep himself in check, his hands maintaining their death grip on her hair but being careful not to pull her in any direction.

"Liv are you-"

"Three letters, El," she breathed, her eyes never leaving his as her tongue lightly trailed around the underside of his head, not allowing herself to indulge in any further contact until he consented to move forward.

"Fuck," he gasped, his senses on overdrive and his erection painfully hard, the sight of her before him and the blissfully languid torture of her tongue and hands causing every fantasy he'd ever had to flood through his mind. "If you-"

Her hand slid down to the base of him, squeezing him gently as the heat of her breath flowed over him once more.

His hips bucked up more urgently, his tip knocking against her lips, and she smiled - her deep brown eyes holding his and her brow arching slightly in challenge and he was lost. "Yes," he hissed, "God, yes..."

Her hand remained wrapped around the base of him, holding him steady as her tongue finally darted out to taste the bead of precum that had been taunting her for so long. The tip of her tongue traced his opening before swirling around his head, relishing the stifled sounds he was trying to suppress as he watched her actions before she engulfed him into the warm depths of her mouth.

"Fuck," he rasped again, his fingers tightening around her as she slid her mouth further onto his length.

She slowly lowered and raised her head a few times, flattening her tongue against him and massaging the sensitive underside of his shaft. Her hand slid up to gather the additional slickness, wrapping around him more purposefully as she stroked him in the same slow rhythm she had established with her mouth. She moaned against him and the vibration elicited a sharp thrust and a groan.

"Christ, Liv. I'm sorry...I didn't...didn't mean-" Her actions were making it impossible for him to string together coherent thoughts, let alone a sentence. He was trying desperately to keep himself in check. He hadn't meant to thrust into her. He didn't want to be forceful. He was petrified of doing anything that would be triggering for her. Yet the more he attempted to rein himself in, the more out of control he felt as the pleasure she was causing continued to build. He somehow found the wherewithal to remove his hands from her hair, a strangled moan escaping as she swirled her tongue around him again in conjunction with another humming vibration that started deep in her throat and reverberated all the way through him. His fists clenched at his sides, desperately trying to prevent himself from reaching for her again.

She lifted her mouth from him just long enough to try to reassure him, her hand maintaining the steady rhythm she'd established in order to permit her to speak. "Shh, El." Her left hand released him as she instead reached for his hand, her palm smoothing over his fist to take hold of his wrist, guiding his hand back to her hair.

He looked back at her with a mixture of lust and conflict in his eyes, his jaw clenching as her right hand continued its expert ministrations.

"Stop holding back," was the last thing she said before she enveloped him in her mouth again, her hand sliding down to his base.

Her motions were broadening, taking him in more and more deeply with every pass and Elliot's hips were perpetually rocking forward now, even as he continued to struggle to remain still. His hand tightened against her as his tip came in contact with the back of her throat, stifled moans escaping as she began to withdraw only minimally before taking him in again and again, the repeated feel of him pressing against her throat causing him to harden even more inside of her.

Her tongue was doing indescribable things, her gentle strokes where she cupped him making him tighten even more in anticipation of his release.

Elliot watched as he disappeared inside of her over and over again, her lips stopping only when they met the knuckles of her hand. She sucked him more strongly and he bucked against her once more, her throat spasming reflexively though she didn't pull away, the motion of her head never faltering. "Liv," he tried again, not sure if he was begging for an apology or permission, and then he suddenly forgot how to breathe when her hands slid from around him to curl around his hips, her mouth taking him in more and more deeply - not stopping at the feel of him pressing against her, but relaxing her throat to accommodate his length, taking him all the way inside of her until her lips met his pelvis.

He let out a curse that was somewhere between a growl and a moan, his entire body going rigid as both hands flew to her head, his body in ecstasy and his mind in complete mental and sensory overload. Olivia Benson was deep-throating him - something he would never have asked of her and something his ex-wife had never done. His vision almost clouded over before he remembered he needed air, his breaths suddenly returning to him in shallow, pressured attempts at filling his burning lungs. He had frozen in place but for the tremors occasionally gripping his body in his attempts not to come. Christ, she wasn't even moving and he thought he might come solely from the awareness that she had taken him in so completely.

Olivia held herself still, recognizing pieces of his internal struggle and giving both of them a chance to acclimate to the change. She waited for his hands to relax their grip on her head and then her thumb swiped reassuringly over his hip as she started to move against him, withdrawing shallowly at first but increasing her movements as they developed a new shared rhythm.

She could feel the tension in his muscles where her forearms rested against his thighs, could hear his constant stream of strangled utterances as her throat enveloped him over and over again. He was trying so hard to hold himself back, but she wanted him to take control - wanted him to set the pace he needed that would bring him most pleasurably to his release. She knew he wouldn't take over without a push - that even as he was spiraling closer and closer to the edge, he would never want to do anything that might be construed as forceful.

She lessened the depth momentarily, holding still just at the point where he pressed against the back of her throat, taking a moment to breathe through her nose to prepare herself as she reached her left hand up to cover his right, her fingers coaxing him to tighten his hold on her head. She swiped her thumb over the back of his hand, wordlessly granting him the permission to set the pace and further communicating her intent by pulling lightly on his wrist as she slid her mouth upward and then pushing downward as she lowered herself again, not stopping until she had taken all of him inside of her once more.

"God, Liv," he breathed as her hand fell away, understanding her directive but overwhelmed by the trust she was placing in his hands.

He still hesitated another moment, but she waited for him, her tongue softly undulating against the underside of his length. It was the final nudge he needed from her before he allowed himself to take control, her body language calm as his hands sifted gently through her hair. He applied the slightest pressure of his fingertips to nudge her upwards, and an equally gentle touch as he coaxed her to lower her head once more, his hips rocking upward to meet her as he held her in place for a moment. She moaned around him and he reflexively jerked against her, the vibration adding another overwhelming sensation to the mix. Her throat contracted in response but before he could worry, her thumbs were smoothing over his hips, a signal to him that she was okay.

He used his left hand to hold her hair back from her face, his right hand drifting lower to stroke her cheek, his touch incredibly gentle. "Just push against my hips if you need me to stop, Liv," he rasped.

She nodded against him and his right hand snaked back into her hair.

"Okay," he breathed almost more to himself than to her, nudging her upwards again and stopping her at the point at which he wanted her to lower herself once more. She immediately understood, as in sync with him as always, the end result being that he didn't have to control her movements, he didn't have to worry about pushing her too far too fast, he just needed to give her feedback about the pace.

She started a slow rhythm, recognizing that he had wordlessly told her it was less about how far she withdrew as it was how deeply she had taken him inside of her. He gradually directed her to pick up the pace, occasionally stopping her when he was buried to the hilt, holding her in place with the slight pressure of his palms, and she knew that it was partly because of the intense sensation of her throat surrounding him and partly because mentally the awareness of their connection was almost more than he could bear.

As the pace increased, she felt him shaking beneath her, heard him grunting slightly every time she took him in as he struggled to retain his control. He was trying to hold himself back from the edge but was increasingly losing the battle as the pleasure was so intense that he was constantly rocking upward to meet her downward motions, thrusting inside of her more freely as he trusted her to stop him if it became too much for her.

Elliot was feeling increasingly overwhelmed, his body humming from the sensations she was causing, his mind still racing at the knowledge that it was Olivia...that it was real. He couldn't fully comprehend how she was possibly taking him in so deeply, his right hand drifting down over her nape and his palm tentatively coming to rest along the column of her throat. He thought of the many times he had forcefully grabbed her during the undercover, and part of him was terrified that any touch from him, no matter how gentle, would be triggering for her. She made a small sound as she recognized what he was searching for, and she lifted her hand up to meet his, coaxing him to apply more pressure where his hand curved around her. He thrust inside of her and groaned as he felt the bulge of her throat against his palm, a tremor coursing through him as she squeezed the back of his hand even further, holding him in place as she swallowed. The sound that ripped from his throat was almost primal in its intensity. He had never felt anything like the jolt of pleasure that coursed through him in that moment, every muscle in his body standing out as he prevented himself from thrusting forward once more.

"Fuck," he panted when he regained the power of speech, just barely catching his breath before her tongue swirled around the base of him as she swallowed once more.

He was lost.

Her hand fell away, bracing herself on her forearms again as his hand slid back from the column of her throat to fist into the back of her hair. He wasn't being forceful, but every aspect of his body language and his hold was more urgent as his thrusts became faster and sharper. She was moaning against him constantly now, the vibrations around him bringing him closer and closer to the edge. He wanted to slow down for her, but his body was operating on autopilot, her throat contracting around him more frequently as she struggled to mitigate her reflexive responses to his movements.

"God...Liv," he tried, most of his words lost to the sounds of exertion that he could no longer withhold.

Her hand reached between his legs again, cupping him once more and squeezing him gently as her fingertips lightly stroked his perineum and he let out another stream of curses and unintelligible pleas. She felt his imminent climax, and immediately he was trying to push her head away, trying to get her to release him.

"Liv, you've gotta... I can't..." he tried, his words rushing out of him with an almost frantic urgency.

She fought against his attempts at dissuasion, her hands gripping onto his hips as she prevented him from withdrawing.

"Liv...ung...you-"

She shook her head, letting out a more purposeful moan as she pushed him beyond the limits of his control.

He couldn't hold back anymore, his hips thrusting upward again and again and again. It wasn't physically possible to get any more deeply inside of her, but still his hips bucked against her in an uncontrollable surge of pleasure and passion, needing more of her, more of everything. Her throat contracted around him more strongly, seemingly touching every single pleasure point at once, and his head tipped back against the mattress with a strangled moan, his body shuddering uncontrollably as he came so hard that flecks of gold sparked behind his closed lids. His hands clutched onto her head, his mind spinning as he felt her swallow again and again as he pulsed and jerked inside of her, utterances of exertion accompanying every surge of his release.

Finally he stilled, his shaking hands framing her face and trying to coax her to lift her head again. He needed to be close to her, needed to be able to hold her, and was gripped by an irrational panic and overpowering need to pull her from her submissive posture to level the playing field once more. She had willingly given him the control, but the dynamic had resurrected so many of the emotions he had felt during the night of the undercover that he was petrified that he had somehow harmed her again.

"Olivia," he barely managed to utter through heaving breaths, his fingers curling around the back of her head.

She heard the urgency in his tone, slowly releasing him as he jerked slightly beneath her, her palms smoothing soothingly over his thighs. She crawled back up the frame of his body and no sooner had she done so than he pulled her into a near crushing embrace, wrapping her up in both of his arms as he buried his nose into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His chest was still rising and falling unevenly as he tried to catch his breath, but he forced himself to take a deeper breath, inhaling her scent and seeking the familiar comfort of the fragrance of her hair.

Olivia tried to read him, understanding that he was needing the reassurance of her presence but not sure of the specific trigger - whether it was aspects of the undercover or something deeper. She gave him time, relaxing into his hold while periodically murmuring words of love and comfort that she wasn't fully sure that he was able to process. It was only when his breathing had finally evened that she tried to reach him once more.

"Elliot?" she asked softly, her voice further muffled as she spoke against his neck.

He became aware of the strength of his hold, his arms relaxing somewhat as he pulled back to try to meet her gaze. Her voice had held a tentative quality and he still couldn't shake the lingering fear that he hadn't been attentive enough - that he might have triggered her somehow.

She looked back at him with a question in her eyes, seeing his concern and waiting for him to put whatever was weighing so heavily upon him into words.

He cupped her cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing over her with a near reverent gentleness.

"Olivia are you..." he struggled to speak through the tightness in his throat. "Was I too rough?"

She held his gaze unflinchingly, her eyes holding nothing but compassion and calm. "No, El," she assured him. "I'm fine. More than fine." She offered him a small smile.

He nodded back at her, his eyes stormy as he cycled through a jumble of overlapping images from past and present.

"Hey," she soothed. "I'm okay," she repeated.

His thumb stroked her cheekbone again, the contact so slight that it was as if he were afraid she might vanish. "Liv, I love you so much. You mean _everything_ to me. You know that, right?"

She kissed him softly, her fingertips sweeping over his brow.

"I know it, El."

Pain flitted across his features. "I just... After the way I treated you that night, I never want you to feel like..."

She shook her head, her voice as gentle as velvet. "Nothing we just shared made me feel anything less than loved and desired...and _safe_ ," she added as an afterthought, trying to offer reassurance on all fronts.

Elliot arched back further as his gaze drifted over the column of her throat, the bruising still visible from the forcefulness of his and Nikolai's strangleholds. His fingertips trailed over her with tenderness and devotion, his eyes meeting hers once more.

"I'm so afraid of doing something that triggers you somehow...brings you back there." He cleared his throat. "You make me feel things that..." he blew out a puff of air. "I don't have the words, Liv. Being intimate with you is..." he smiled lightly. "You make me feel things I've never felt in my life."

"Same, El," she replied softly.

"But, Liv... What happened between us just now..."

Olivia watched as concern settled into his features again, traces of guilt visible in his eyes.

"At a certain point, I lost control," he rasped.

Olivia's body language remained calm, a slightly far off look in her eyes as her thumb lightly traced the curve of his lower lip. "Hopefully that means I was doing something right," she whispered.

His jaw clenched from the memory. "God, Liv, you were doing everything right," he breathed. "But I was so damned scared that I'd hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me, Elliot. Not even close." She kissed him gently, her fingers lingering against the stubble that dotted his jaw. "I _wanted_ you to let go...lose control." She held his gaze with openness and a flicker of heat, her lips sensually dragging over his as she momentarily revisited the memory. She felt the somewhat ragged exhale that flowed from his mouth to hers and knew that his own thoughts were reliving their encounter as well. She continued to speak against him, occasionally punctuating her words with kisses. " _I_ pushed _you_ to let go. That was intentional, consensual, and never, not once, did you make me feel unsafe." She paused, her palm flattening against his cheek to ensure her words would resonate. "But if I'd needed you to, I have no doubt in my mind that you would have stopped."

He nodded. "Always," he murmured, his hand skimming down her spine.

He raked his fingers through her hair, his thumb stroking her temple as he looked back and forth between her eyes. There was no doubt in her expression, just trust and love.

Olivia saw his cautious acceptance of her words, tenderly kissing him again to further solidify his peace of mind. When they drew apart, she held his gaze, a mischievous sparkle shining in her eyes.

"Let's not forget who initiated things this morning...or who chose how she wanted things to finish," she said with an arch of her brow.

Elliot's eyes flashed and his teeth scraped absently over his lower lip, the motion delaying his smile but not preventing it. "Oh, believe me, Benson. I haven't forgotten a single moment."

A light smile spread across her features in return, her expression holding what could best be described as satisfaction.

She watched as his eyes lowered to focus on her lips, then her throat, no doubt in her mind what he was thinking of as his fingertips followed the path of his gaze. His palm slowly drifted down the side of her neck before coming to wrap around her nape, his eyes eventually snapping out of his reverie to meet hers once more. He was regarding her with that intensity of his that made her feel equal parts held and seen, and then he gently pulled her toward him to place a kiss on her forehead before coaxing her to relax back down onto his chest and into the warmth of his embrace.

They each closed their eyes, absorbing the connection and the calm.

Olivia's fingers were running idly along the dip of his collarbone, her soft voice once again meeting his ears.

"We're partners, El. Control is shared. You didn't take anything from me that wasn't willingly given."

He nodded his assent, inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly, placing a kiss against the crown of her head. He wondered how it was possible to be so lucky. He was overcome with gratitude for her presence in his life, for her compassion and understanding, and for the infinite ways she was able to soothe him. No one else had ever been able to read him the way that she could, even during times in which he, himself, was struggling to put things into words. Now that they were able to be physically affectionate with one another, he was overwhelmed by how powerfully their connection had deepened - how seamlessly their attunement to one another had flowed into their physical intimacy.

He found himself holding onto her more tightly - an unconscious response to his awareness of how close he had come to losing her. He thought about those terrifying hours following her abduction and the desperation he'd felt when he'd sped to the Catskills only to be met by the footage of his abuse of her. He thought of his return to the club and the moment in which he'd caught sight of her huddled form in the darkened room that had forever changed them. He'd held onto her with an intensity borne from the knowledge that it might have been the last chance he'd have to do so...an agonizing moment of connectedness in the face of an imminent end.

By the grace of God, he'd been granted a second chance to love her as completely as he had always wanted to, and now that she was safely in his arms, he never wanted to let her go.

"I love you so much, Benson," he spoke into her hair, his throat choked with emotion.

Olivia's eyes pricked with the threat of tears as she processed the layers of feeling behind his words. "Love you too," she managed.

They settled back into silence, their thoughts drifting in and out of the present, each coping with tides of conflicting emotions that ebbed and flowed depending upon which aspect of their recent past sifted through their minds. There was so much to process...too much, so it was as if their minds weren't allowing them to focus on any one thing for a prolonged period of time. It was protective, perhaps - a means to cope in snippets as opposed to being flooded by everything as a whole. The evolution of their physical intimacy had forced them to confront some of the most difficult aspects of their experiences during the undercover - each of them voicing fears and emotions that they had attempted to suppress, but that had needed to come to the surface. It had been a painful process, but their ability to be intimate with one another on their own terms, to treat one another in the way in which they'd wished their initial encounter had unfolded, had been healing for each of them. Yet the calm that had emerged in the aftermath of their lovemaking was tenuous at best, unable to fully take the place of the undercurrents of grief that remained as they grappled with the unfathomable loss of Lara.

Olivia remembered the wave of sadness that had struck her so powerfully in the early hours of the morning. She recognized that Elliot's actions had been a way to draw her into the present, to flood her with feeling from the physical outpouring of his love and to pull her back from her despair. He had sought to protect her again, and she realized that in the immediate aftermath, she hadn't had the capacity to acknowledge it.

The motion of her hand broadened, sliding up over his shoulder to curve around his neck. "El, thank you...for earlier. When I woke up, my impulse was to want to check on Lara. I wasn't," her voice broke, and she took a couple of breaths to try to maintain her composure. "I wasn't thinking clearly...and when I remembered, everything just...hit me at once."

"I know," Elliot replied, his voice gravelly. He smoothed his hand up the small of her back, slipping beneath her shirt until his forearm was flush against her spine. His fingers emerged through the collar to lightly stroke her nape, his lips pressing more firmly against the crown of her head.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Anyway," she managed. "I'm sorry I woke you, but-"

"Stop right there," he interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. "If you're hurting, I want to be beside you."

She breathed a sigh through her nose.

"No," he preempted her silent argument. "I know for a fact, that if you'd had the ability, you would have snuck out of bed this morning."

She said nothing, but he felt her blinks increase against his chest.

"Am I wrong?" he pressed softly.

She shrugged against him.

He sighed. "Olivia, this is the part where I need you to remember you're not in this alone."

He knew that, since childhood, Olivia had been forced to cope with things on her own. When he thought back to the start of their partnership, he knew with a painful clarity that he had reinforced that pattern - Benson, the rookie, trying to prove herself as capable of withstanding the darkest horrors that they encountered in the field so as not to let him down. Over the years, the dynamic waxed and waned depending upon the state of their relationship, but he knew that he had done indelible harm with the words that he had so carelessly hurled at her in the aftermath of Gitano. He hadn't realized just how deeply they'd been etched into her memory until the night she'd finally disclosed everything about Sealview, and it was then that he knew just how deeply the wounds ran and how much damage he had inflicted. The thought brought about another pang of remorse, amplified by the images his mind conjured up of all of the times that Olivia must have suffered in silence, maintaining her stoicism at the precinct only to return home to crumble.

"Liv, throughout all of this, you've tried to hold back in front of me...to prevent me from seeing you fall apart."

Olivia let out a dull chuckle. "I've done a shit job of it," she replied with some bitterness.

Elliot knew that it was directed at herself and not at him, and it only underscored his regret. He sighed again, more heavily, wishing he could make her see. "Just...hear me out for a sec, okay?"

She remained silent, and he took that as acquiescence.

"The night of the undercover, you'd been put through hell and back again...by me...by Nikolai. We'd hurt you in every possible way - physically, emotionally."

"Elliot-"

He shook his head. "Just...let me finish," he rasped.

She swallowed, forcing herself to comply even while the emotion in his tone made it hard to breathe.

He cleared his throat, and when he continued his voice was rough and quiet. "You'd taken so many blows to the head that you could barely stand, and when we got to the house to find Lara, you intentionally pushed me...knowing that I'd..." he faltered, the memory making him physically ache. "Knowing that I'd have to hit you again, but willingly provoking that argument to buy us time. And when everything went to shit...in the scuffle...in the aftermath... You saved my life by taking that shot. You crawled to Lara to try to pull her to safety. And when Nikolai pulled the trigger, you didn't leave her side until I physically dragged you away."

He felt the tears that were quietly escaping, slipping down her cheek to pool where her head rested against his chest. His fingers continued to stroke her nape, his own voice choked with emotion though he fought against it in order to speak.

"Your lips were blue from the cold. Your entire body was shaking against mine. And I was so damned grateful for the excuse to hold you, because I knew that under any other circumstances, you would have pushed me away."

"El-"

"You _tried_ , Liv. You heard Fin on the stairs and your whole body went rigid. You tried to stand, but your legs gave out and you didn't have the choice. I held onto you for as long as I possibly could, and when he left us alone, there was a moment that I made the decision to just...screw the boundaries and pull you into my arms. Not for warmth, Liv...but because you were trying so damned hard to be strong for me, and I _knew_ it. I knew what you were doing to yourself internally and it killed me."

Olivia's chin quivered against him, and this time it was because she could hear the tears in his tone.

"Because it was my fault, Liv," his voice broke. "I made you doubt yourself...think less of yourself. From the moment I met you, you tried to prove yourself to me...and after Gitano, I made it a hundred times worse." He coughed slightly against the pain constricting his throat. " _I_ was the one that should have proven myself to _you_ , Liv. I let you down in so many ways."

"Elliot that's n-"

"And that night, I hated myself with every fiber of my being for all of the ways that I'd hurt you...failed you." He lifted his hand from her hair and angrily swiped at the moisture that had escaped the corner of his eye. "I wanted to tell you it was okay to let yourself go. And I _tried_...in my way. Just by holding you; by crossing that damn line in the sand." He shook his head at the memory. "But you fought against it. You tried to hide it from me. You only let yourself fall apart when you were alone in the shower, and when I found you there, shivering...I thought-" his voice caught in another wave of grief and he struggled to finish. "I thought I'd broken you, Liv."

"Elliot, _please_. Please just hear me out?"

He coughed to clear his throat again. "I just...Did I hurt us too badly, Liv? The things I've said and done? I can't go back and fix things. And Christ, if you felt like you had to hide Sealview from me...I just...I don't know how to make you see how badly I need you to trust me - to feel safe enough to be vulnerable with me."

"I _do_ , El," she spoke through her tears.

"It's...it's not just about taking care of you, Liv. It's about you understanding that what you feel matters to me. All of it. Good and bad."

"I _know_ that."

When he spoke again, he sounded deflated - his tone free from the bulk of emotion and colored by resignation. "But you still would have snuck out of bed this morning to try to hide from me."

"And that has to do with _me_ , El. It's because _I_ feel weak when I fall apart. Not because you make me feel that way." She swiped frustratedly at her own tears. "Elliot, that night, I was so overwhelmed. I'd been in love with you from the moment I met you. I'd spent years figuring out how to lock my feelings away...to do the job and protect our partnership and your marriage and distance myself from everything. _Yes_ , I wanted to prove myself to you, but I wanted to prove myself to everyone. I'm in the fucking boys' club of the NYPD. Sealview made me doubt my abilities as a cop, let alone my abilities to have your back. If I couldn't even protect myself, how the hell was I supposed to protect you?"

"Liv-"

"No," she said firmly. "If you get to talk, I get to talk."

He sighed, but let her continue.

"And then this case happened, and it reinforced all of my doubts. _Mine_ , El. Gitano shook both of us. I don't blame you for reacting the way you did. But I've never wanted anyone to have to come to my rescue, and in Sealview, and in the club, I felt weak - physically weak - and at the very least, I wanted to compensate emotionally." She let out another self-deprecating laugh. "When you held me that night, I kept telling myself to move away, but I couldn't, El. From the moment you'd kissed me that night, my defenses were in shambles. I kept telling myself that you were trying to make up for what you'd have to do that night - that it didn't mean anything. But since you keep asking for honesty, my feelings had been all twisted up inside ever since the night we took the photographs."

She felt his breathing cease and it only reinforced her feelings of vulnerability.

Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to keep speaking. "You had to touch me that night, and it was all for the purpose of those damn photographs, but from that moment, I just...I already felt too much again." She sniffed, but had given up the battle at preventing the tears from falling. "So that night, in the basement, you wrapped your arms around me and I remember feeling so conflicted...because I knew I should pull away, but I _couldn't_..." Her voice broke again, a higher pitched sob, reliving the memory of how lost and empty she had felt, and it was with that thought that she lost the remaining vestiges of her control and she was crying more than speaking. "I couldn't...because I kept thinking that it was the last time you'd do it."

She felt his arms envelop her more securely, but she couldn't bring herself back.

"I heard Cragen, and it was my wake-up call. It wasn't because I didn't trust you, El. It was because I knew that once I let myself go - truly let myself go, I wouldn't be able to pick up the pieces again." She held onto him more tightly, as if he would suddenly change his mind. As if she were back in the basement again. "I didn't...I _couldn't_ let you see me like that. Not when I thought you were only going through the motions."

"Liv, I wasn't-"

"I didn't _know_ that, El. God, when you found me in the shower, I felt so ashamed. I didn't blame you for anything, but I knew you blamed yourself. It made me feel even more guilty for struggling as much as I was - for grieving the loss of something that hadn't been mine to begin with."

"It _was_ yours, Liv. God, I wish..."

"I know that now," she said brokenly, trying to bring herself back from that mental space again. "But I had that nightmare...and I saw the wounded look in your eye, and I felt so guilty. Not just for being afraid, for the hurt it caused you, but for wanting more from you than I thought I had the right to ask of you."

"I should have told you how I felt from the get-go."

She breathed a sad laugh. "Of course you didn't. That would have meant risking our partnership before we'd even crossed the line. I don't blame you for any of that."

"I do," he rasped. "I blame myself for everything that happened in that room that unfolded while you thought I felt less than you did."

She took in a shuddering breath and tried to exhale slowly to regain some composure. "My wanting to hide my vulnerability from you has nothing to do with Gitano or any of our past. It has to do with my need to feel like I'm still capable of doing this job...of protecting you...of being emotionally strong, even when I know that physically, I'm a liability for you."

"Liv-"

"And if you don't believe me, ask Huang."

His expression crumbled into one of dismay. "Olivia, why-"

"Because I couldn't stop you...just like I couldn't stop Harris. And I knew that before I agreed to the undercover op...but I tried to convince myself otherwise."

"Olivia-"

"I trust you with my life, El. I trust you with my body...with my heart. But it's not easy for me to trust anyone with my fragility...especially when that calls into question my ability to be an effective cop."

"You're the strongest person I've ever known, Liv. That's not a line. That's the truth."

Olivia thought back to that moment in the basement - the moment that the dust had settled, their covers were dismantled, and all that was left was the two of them...raw and broken and reeling in the aftermath of all that they had weathered.

"I was afraid that night," she murmured after a pause. "I was afraid of how much I needed you." She swallowed, her breathing shaky as she acknowledged the truth. "I still am," she whispered.

His arms wrapped around her more securely. "Me too, Liv."

Her hand tightened its hold around his neck, her brow knitting in her attempt to rein herself in. "I'm trying, Elliot. It's not you that I'm hiding from. You've seen more of me than anyone...ever in my life."

"Okay," he said gruffly.

She heard the rough quality to his tone and was suddenly worried that he was upset with her. Her heart raced from a surge of anxiety, not sure if this would be the kind of issue that would cause a bigger rift over time and ultimately be the tipping point at which he would realize that she wasn't cut out for this - wasn't good at being in a relationship. The thought terrified her, and the greatest irony of all was that she felt an overwhelming desire to run...to hide it from him.

She forced herself to tamp down the impulse, taking in shallow attempts at breaths as her tremulous voice met his ears.

"Please don't be mad. I'm...I'm not good at this, and I don't want you to gi-"

Elliot's brow furrowed and he immediately shifted to try to make eye contact with her, his palm cupping her cheek. Her eyes remained downcast, her face flushed against the threat of tears. "Hey," he soothed gently. "Hey, look at me." He waited until her shining eyes drifted up to meet his, pure empathy in his gaze. "I'm not mad. Mad at myself? Maybe. There's a lot of stuff I wish I could go back and change. I'm not upset with you." His thumb skimmed along her cheekbone, the tip of his finger brushing against the moisture that coated her lashes. "What did you mean when you said you're 'not good at this'?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. He lifted his hand momentarily, gesturing between them to indicate the two of them, their dynamic. " _This_? Us?"

She scraped her teeth over her lower lip, her shoulder lifting in a slight shrug as she tried to downplay her fear. "I haven't...I don't..." she sighed, closing her eyes. Elliot knew everything about her anyway. Hell, she'd told him as much sitting on his front steps before.

 _You're the longest relationship I've ever had with a man._

"Liv, _that_ is something that you never have to worry about." He smiled softly as she looked at him again. "We've been in this for years. The only thing that's changed is logistics." He paused, his expression taking on a more mischievous quality. "Well, that and maybe one or two other things..."

He arched a suggestive brow and she shook her head lightly in return, a hint of a smile touching her lips even as the traces of worry lingered in her eyes. Elliot's features softened in recognition, his index finger tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear before his palm curved back around her cheek.

"I love _you_ , Olivia. Do I want you to feel safe to be vulnerable with me? Yeah. I really, really do. But if you'd snuck off this morning, I would have been there for you after. Just like when you came home yesterday afternoon after all of those hours that you'd supported Lara during her breakdown."

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Ten years, Liv," he said gently. "Yeah, I knew that you'd finally let yourself go in the shower."

Olivia searched his expression for judgment, but found none.

His voice dropped even more, his fingers weaving into her hair. "I'm not saying you can't cope on your own, Benson. I'm just saying that you don't have to. Not anymore."

"Okay," she whispered.

Their eyes held one another's and they lingered in the stillness of the moment, each of them gradually processing the steady drum of the rain against the windowpanes. Neither could remember the last time it had rained this much without pause. It was as if the sky was grieving along with them.

The quiet intimacy of the moment evoked the recollection of the first time they'd allowed themselves to truly see one another in the immediate aftermath of the undercover - the first time that they had lain beside one another in this space. They had each yearned for so much, yet had been unable to ask for anything, a myriad emotions colliding against the backdrop of their complicated past. The only thing they'd permitted themselves to seek from one another was the comfort of the other's presence and the safety they'd found in one another's gaze. Now, all of the same emotions were present, all of the recognition and the need, and this time, all of it was permitted.

The depth of their connection was once again a near tangible presence in the room, infiltrating all aspects of their love and their loss as neither made any attempt to suppress the undercurrents of emotion.

Elliot watched as the sheen in Olivia's eyes gradually broadened until it could no longer be contained, two tears quietly escaping as the grief swept over her once more. The pain in her eyes was reflected in his own, and he touched his lips to hers with a gentleness that was soothing while still allowing the sadness to emerge. Little by little their contact deepened, the movements of their mouths slow and soft and full of emotion. Elliot enfolded her into a gentle embrace, cradling the back of her head in his palm as he rolled them to change their positions, sheltering her body with his own as she relaxed into the imprint of the warmth he'd left behind. The softness of the mattress enveloped her as comfortingly as the light touch of his palms that slowly slid upwards along her torso, collecting her shirt and removing it fluidly as her arms lifted in response. Their limbs moved in wordless recognition, ridding him of the tangle of his sweats as his lips dragged along the tracks of her tears that continued to fall. She opened herself to him without hesitation, her shaky breaths falling against his cheek as he nuzzled his nose against her, trailing light kisses against her temple and down along the column of her throat, before his lips skimmed upwards again to softly capture hers once more. His hand drifted down her body, lightly stroking her breast, her side, the dip of her waist, and the curve of her hip. His fingertips followed the slope of her pelvis, gently meeting her center to test her readiness for him with a reverence and calm that mirrored the languid caresses of his lips and tongue.

She felt his hips shift against hers and she nodded a silent reply, his lips lifting from hers just far enough to hold her gaze as he slowly pushed inside of her. She arched into him with a quiet gasp, her hips lifting to meet his as she sought out a deeper connection. His hand drifted up to smooth along the softness of her forearm, her arms still raised slightly overhead and her fingertips loosely connected. His eyes held hers as the warmth of his palm came to cover both of her own, his lips brushing against hers again and his thumb running along the side of her hand. It was a means of checking in with her - ensuring that she felt protected and not restrained. She sniffed against the congestion and nodded again, her fingers curling around his in silent communication as he gently rocked inside of her. He shifted again, resting his weight on his forearms as both of his palms met hers, their fingers interlocking as their mouths continued to meet, the contact lightening or deepening depending upon Olivia's breaths. Occasionally his lips would drift to brush her tears away, her shuddering inhales increasingly mixing with soft utterances of pleasure as they maintained the slow rhythm they'd established.

The pleasure built slowly, a radiating warmth spreading through each of them like a gentle tide, their breathing becoming more ragged, but their pace never quickening. Quiet moans and gasps wafted around them as gently as the rain, their hands clutching onto one another more tightly in shared communication as they drew closer to the edge.

Olivia was the first to fall, her head tipping backward and Elliot's falling forward over her shoulder as the feel of her climax triggered his own. Her body arched beneath his as he rocked within her more urgently in waves of his release, his weight falling against her more heavily and her head turning into his neck. They lay there, panting, her chest rising on his exhales, neither wanting to move for fear of disrupting the feeling of connectedness and peace that flowed through them in the afterglow. Their breathing gradually evened, giving space for whispered words of love and devotion to drift into the air.

He kissed her again, his thumbs swiping over her palms before releasing her just long enough to wrap his arm around her, coaxing her to roll with him onto their sides. She followed the motion, their bodies still connected and his hand tangling into her hair. Her tears had stopped falling, the only remaining signs being the traces of moisture that clung to her lashes, but this was a reminder to him of the fact that she had remained open to him in every possible way.

"I love you," he said again, putting more voice behind the words, the result being that she more fully heard the depth of emotion contained within. Even then, he felt as though the words weren't sufficient to encapsulate the strength of the sentiment. He tried to hold her even more closely in his embrace. "More than you will ever know."

She nodded against him, her lips brushing against the warmth of his neck. "It's the same for me, El," she said softly. "More and more," she added somewhat tremulously, the magnitude of all that had evolved between them overwhelming in its intensity.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "I know what you mean."

Her breathing had quickened again and he sought to reassure her in the only way he knew how. "If you run from this Benson, so help me God, I will hunt you down..." he warned playfully, his words trailing off at her soft laughter.

"Not a chance in hell, Stabler," she spoke through her smile. "You're stuck with me."

"Good."

She kissed the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he felt the curve of her lips as she smiled against him again. "So, uh...You hungry?" she asked attempting to force nonchalance into her tone.

He chuckled. "Getting there, but I take that to mean that _you_ are..."

She shrugged. "I could eat."

He grinned, pulling back to look her in the eye. "I suppose we worked off that Chinese food from last night."

She said nothing, but the sparkle in her eyes spoke volumes.

Elliot extricated his hand from her hair, his index finger tracing the line of her jaw before tucking beneath her chin. He regarded her affectionately, his lips still lifted in a light smile. "Go on and hop in the shower. I'll order in from the deli down the street."

"You're not coming?" she asked innocently.

He tucked his tongue against the side of his cheek in a failed attempt at suppressing his amusement. "Benson, if I follow you in there, we might starve to death."

She arched a brow. "Suit yourself."

"You..." he kissed her lightly, "are trouble."

She smiled against his lips.

"And incredibly, breathtakingly beautiful," he added gently, all traces of amusement evaporating from his tone as he rested his forehead against hers.

She cleared her throat against the sudden surge of emotion, unprepared for the compliment and still taken aback at the recognition that those words were falling from Elliot's lips.

His hand skimmed down her spine, his palm curving around her hip. He lingered there for a moment, his thumb brushing along her skin, and then pulled back to meet her gaze, his eyes loving and calm. "Ready to get up?" he asked quietly.

Olivia nodded, understanding that he was acknowledging the feeling of emptiness that each had grappled with the last time they severed their intimate connection, and that he was giving them a moment to mentally prepare.

He hesitated for another moment before shifting back slowly as they eased apart, her leg slipping down from the frame of his body as his hand traced circles along her lower back. "Okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah."

She leaned forward to kiss him once more, her fingers delicately curling around his neck, and then she drew back to offer him a light smile, reluctantly moving away to sit at the edge of the bed. She took a moment to collect herself, raking a hand through her hair before somewhat stiffly pushing herself up to stand.

Elliot's gaze immediately drifted over her curves, absently running a palm along his jaw as his eyes drank her in.

She chuckled. "Food, El," she prompted quietly. "Order us some food."

He nodded, his eyes darting up again and catching a glimpse of her smirk before she turned and headed across the hall. His eyes followed her retreating form until she slipped into the bathroom, ultimately disappearing from view with the soft click of the door.

* * *

 _End Note:_

 _To be continued..._ _I'm not sure how long it will take me to bring you the next chapter, but I promise it will eventually come... Thanks for your patience. :)_


	27. Chapter 27

I suppose I should start this author's note by saying that this is the final chapter of _Breaking Point._ I hesitate to hit "complete", as there is a slight possibility of my adding a brief epilogue, but for all intents and purposes, Elliot and Olivia's story in this small fictitious world has come to an end. With that said, I find myself lacking the words to effectively express what the journey of writing this has meant for me...

BP provided an escape during moments of my life that were painful and tumultuous, stretched the bounds of what I had ever thought I might do (I had never intended to write...just to read...), and ultimately became a means for me to work through some things in fiction that I needed to pick apart from my past. It also yielded unexpected friendships and connections with incredible people, near and far, many of whom I cannot imagine my life without.

I am so very sorry that it took me ten years to bring this to completion, and I know I lost so many readers along the way because of that lapse. For those of you who are reading this now, I can't tell you how much I've appreciated your support.

All my best,

Jessica xoxo

P.S. Also, if anyone would like a copy of this in PDF or ePub (iBooks) format with the cover art, please send a message to: admin at svufic dot com

(Have to spell it out or FFnet will delete it...)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Olivia found Elliot in the living room, sweatpants slung low on his hips and his chest bare. He was lost in thought, standing by the windows as he watched the rain continue to fall, the steady trickle of droplets that coated the glass obscuring the bustle of the city below. He turned at her footfalls, a gentle smile emerging as their eyes connected and broadening subtly as he noted that she'd put on leggings this time but continued to wear his USMC shirt.

She saw his eyes take in her attire and her expression took on a somewhat bashful quality as she came to stand before him,

"I can give it back," she offered softly.

His eyes sparkled as he lifted his hand, his index finger curling lightly beneath her chin. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, his lips brushing against her as he spoke.

"Never, Benson."

She closed her eyes at the contact, the tenderness of the gesture and the timbre of his voice evoking a feeling of safety and warmth. Perhaps Elliot felt it too, because the quiet moment stretched on, his lips lingering against her and his breathing slowing before he ultimately drew back again.

His thumb brushed along her lip before he let his hand fall away. "I ordered our usuals. Shouldn't be too long."

"Okay. Thanks."

As his touch fell away, Olivia's hands came to rest lightly on his waist, an unconscious means for her to maintain the connection.

"I'm sorry I took so long."

He shook his head. "Wouldn't hurt for me to have a cold shower anyway." He punctuated his statement with a wink, and the smile that lit up her features brought a brighter shine to her weary eyes and filled him with warmth.

She narrowed her eyes playfully, but her smile remained. "The water's still plenty warm, Stabler."

"Hmm. I'll be the judge of that."

He bowed his head to kiss her softly and she met him halfway, nuzzling her nose against his as their lips parted, once again reluctant to pull away.

The shower had felt heavenly, but the calm had invariably led itself to a contemplative mindset, her thoughts immediately having drifted to center upon her fears of what all of the changes in the past twenty-four hours meant for them and for their future - personally and professionally. The sight of her reflection in the mirror was a stark reminder of all that they had weathered, the outward signs of her injuries having faded somewhat but leaving a ghostly impression on her skin. In some ways, it felt like a representation of her internal state - battered and bruised yet trying resolutely to heal.

She was trying to figure out how to cope with the anxiety and loss without feeling the perpetual need to seek out Elliot's proximity. In the aftermath of so much trauma, she'd come to recognize that it was only when she was physically close to him that her racing thoughts were temporarily silenced. It was irrational, she thought - a response to her assaults, her abduction, those agonizing moments when she'd been unable to reach him from beyond the glass; yet understanding the origins of her anxiety wasn't the same thing as having the ability to control it.

"I'll be right back," Elliot whispered, drawing her back from her thoughts.

She nodded as he straightened, her gaze dropping to the bandage on his arm.

He cocked his head to the side, quietly noting her focus. "It's fine, Liv."

"I know," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting into an attempt at reassurance. "I'll put a fresh dressing on when you're done."

"Thanks."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before stepping around her to head back in the direction of the hall.

Olivia took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, one of her hands absently crimping the sodden ends of her hair. She heard the pull of the curtain and the hiss of the shower, the sound sparking another wave of recognition to flow through her of what it meant that Elliot was here, sharing her space.

The return to her apartment had engendered so much conflict within her the day prior. The very idea of it had resurrected a barrage of conflicting memories and emotions from the past. It had been almost as terrifying a prospect to her as their return to the precinct had been following the shift in their relationship. That morning, she had felt as though the return to the precinct would cause the dream to vanish - that the declarations made and affections exchanged had been an ephemeral glimpse of a future that would be unable to withstand the weight of their past. In a similar vein, she had been frightened of returning to a physical space that held the memories of her solitude and the immediate aftermath of their shared trauma.

She realized now that her fears had been misguided. Now, despite the loss that they had weathered, memories of love and connectedness had begun to replenish the void. She cast her eyes around the room, bits and pieces of the past week filtering through her mind. They were positive and negative, tumultuous and calm, yet all of them included Elliot's reassuring presence at her side. Her gaze settled upon the back of the armchair that he had helped her to rest against upon their return from the undercover, her eyes unfocusing somewhat as she relived the memory of him shrugging out of his jacket and putting the chain on the door.

 _I'm not leaving._

 _I wasn't going to make you._

The exchange had been small, statements uttered quietly against a backdrop of uncertainty and regret. Neither had realized the significance of the moment, yet in retrospect, the recollection encapsulated the start of it all. It was the moment in which Elliot had solidified his intent to be present in her life in a different way, and the moment in which Olivia had first acknowledged that she needed him to stay.

She swallowed against the emotion, slowly walking toward the armchair and trailing her fingers over the upholstery. She turned her head over her shoulder to look down the hall, her gaze lingering on the bathroom door. That night remained a blur. She remembered stepping into the shower, she remembered falling apart, but she couldn't remember anything between the crest of her grief and the moment she'd returned to the present to find Elliot crouched beside her.

 _It's okay... It's just you and me._

She had felt so ashamed...so broken...but Elliot's response had been compassionate and calm. There hadn't been a trace of judgment in his expression, only empathy and remorse, and it was with his acceptance and softly spoken words of reassurance that she'd felt safe to seek the comfort he was offering. His embrace had transcended the bounds of friendship, certainly their partnership, but she was too overcome by emotion to process the way in which he was holding her. The only thing that had registered for her in that moment was her overwhelming need to be close to him - a means to cling to the fact that he was _her_ Elliot again, his protectiveness taking the place of the aggression he'd been forced to direct her way.

She heard the shower shut off again and wondered how long she'd been lost in thought. Then she wondered if she'd used up most of the hot water after all. A smile tugged at her lips. She had half a mind to go ask him, but as the impulse struck, the buzzer sounded, alerting her to the presence of their food delivery.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd purchased anything - it had certainly been before they'd caught the case - and suddenly realized that she had absolutely no idea where her wallet was.

Somewhat flustered, she scurried to the intercom to buzz him in. "Come on up," she said quickly, not waiting for a response.

She rifled through a couple of purses and the pockets of coats hanging by the door before she ultimately found it, pulling out what cash she had and sifting through the bills.

The soft knock came a short time after and she distractedly moved to open the door.

"How much do I owe-"

She froze in mid-speech and mid-motion.

It hadn't been the deliveryman. She'd swung open the door to find herself face to face with Huang.

"...you," she finished with a tinge of panicked incredulity, her voice dropping to an almost inaudible level.

"Olivia," he greeted her with an incline of his head and a light smile.

The buzzer sounded again and she jumped slightly, her eyes staring unblinkingly at the man before her.

"I think that's the delivery you were waiting for," Huang said gently after a pause when she made no move to press the button.

Olivia's hand blindly reached for the buzzer, leaning closer to the intercom but continuing to hold Huang's gaze.

"Come on up," she repeated with some difficulty, her throat tight.

Huang was regarding her kindly, making no move to enter nor to push her to speak. He was trying to read her - trying to discern the root of her trepidation, when suddenly everything became crystal clear.

"Liv?" Elliot called, emerging from the bathroom while focusing on righting the inside-out undershirt in his hands. "Do you need-"

It was his turn to freeze mid-step, his eyes locking on Huang.

Huang shifted his focus to Elliot, acknowledging him with a brief greeting before returning his gaze to study Olivia once more. Her face had paled, a tension in her jaw and no movement to speak of to indicate that she was breathing.

Olivia's heart was thudding in her ears. She was struggling to think of something - anything - to say that would explain this away.

"The um...the roads were bad with the storm and..." she trailed off, her shaky voice as unconvincing as her words. _"It's over... Everything is over,"_ she thought in dismay, images from their years of partnership racing through her head.

 _This is my partner, Detective Stabler._

Her face flushed then, her chest aching and her eyes burning, her body language rigid as she remained frozen in the doorway.

Huang watched the emotions play out subtly across her features, his expression sympathetic even as he conveyed his awareness of the truth.

"May I come in?" he asked even more gently, his eyes knowing and kind.

"Yeah," she rasped, her hand falling away from the door as she stepped aside.

"Thank you," he said, moving beyond her into the apartment as the footsteps on the stairs signified the arrival of their meal.

She nodded, pressing her lips together as she tried to sift through bills that she could no longer read.

Elliot exhaled heavily, pulling his undershirt overhead as he acknowledged Huang with a curt nod, his expression stony as he moved to stand just behind Olivia's shoulder, reaching around her to ease the cash from her hand as he took over.

He took the bag from the deliveryman with an utterance of thanks, handing him what was owed plus a decently sized tip on account of the rain. The man promptly trotted back down the stairs, oblivious to the mess that he had stumbled upon and was now quickly leaving behind.

"Go on and sit down, Liv," Elliot said under his breath, not making a move to touch her, but standing closely enough to feel the warmth of her before him.

She nodded, numbly putting one foot in front of the other and ultimately taking a seat on the far side of the couch.

Elliot and Huang stood facing one another, exchanging a long look before Olivia broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Please," she murmured, gesturing to the armchair before Huang. "Sit."

Huang nodded, lowering himself into the proffered chair and glancing up to acknowledge the plastic bag in Elliot's hand. "Please eat. I won't be staying long."

Elliot exchanged a look with Olivia, but she shook her head.

"Not hungry," she breathed.

Elliot sighed, turning to deposit the bag on the kitchen counter before coming to stand between them, his arms folding over his chest in a defensive posture and his feet planted a shoulder width apart.

"Since when are you in the habit of making house calls, Doc?" he asked, his tone even, but not quite friendly.

Huang looked up at him, holding his gaze unflinchingly with his typical patience but with a hint of warning.

"Cragen?" Olivia asked softly, ending the standoff as both men turned their attentions to her.

She was sitting on the edge of her seat with her arms wrapped around her middle, her body language equal parts protective and vulnerable. Elliot longed to be able to comfort her, his awareness of the physical distance so overwhelming that it was almost painful.

"He was worried," Huang replied with an apologetic expression. "I did try to call," he added, tapping the cell phone in his pocket.

Olivia's gaze faltered and she looked somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, trying to remind herself to breathe.

"It's uh... It's been a rough twenty-four hours," Elliot responded gruffly, unable to fully hide the emotion in his tone.

Huang nodded slowly.

Olivia remained silent, barely maintaining her composure and trying desperately to prevent the dam from breaking. She hadn't been ready for this, hadn't had any time to emotionally prepare herself for the encounter, and certainly hadn't been prepared for the status of their relationship to have been discovered in this manner. As it was, she'd been struggling to contain her grief over Lara, and now she was unexpectedly forced to confront what she imagined to be the imminent loss of their partnership.

Huang gave her a moment, quietly observing the way every ounce of Elliot's focus was directed at the woman before him, concern etched in his features. Eventually, Huang reached into a pocket in the inside of his coat to pull out an envelope, extending it in Olivia's direction.

She caught sight of the flash of white from her peripheral vision, her eyes meeting his again before reaching over to take it from him. It was unsealed and she slid a finger beneath the flap to open it fully, extricating the piece of paper contained within. She unfolded it and immediately lost the battle at locking her emotions away. It was Lara's drawing of the two of them; the one that she and Elliot had left behind.

Olivia's hand lifted to cover her mouth, partially concealing her face from view as silent tears spilled from her eyes and her nostrils flared.

Elliot's heart clenched, finding himself equally on the verge of losing his control.

Huang recognized this too, noting the tendon standing out along Elliot's jaw, the pain in his eyes as he watched Olivia's quiet struggle.

Olivia swallowed against the lump in her throat, trying to find the strength to speak. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, putting every shred of effort she could muster into the task of picking up the pieces of her broken heart.

She sniffed as she reopened her eyes, clearing her throat softly before addressing Huang once more. "How did you get this?" she asked, her voice gravelly and her eyes trained on the page.

"A nurse stopped by the precinct this morning. Said you would want to have it to keep with the others."

Olivia nodded, swiping at the moisture on her cheeks.

"May I see her other drawings?" Huang asked.

She almost flinched at the suggestion, her eyes seeking out Elliot's. She knew that Lara's second drawing of their embrace would be the final nail in the coffin, not that Huang hadn't already seen more than enough to discern all that he needed to know.

Elliot followed her train of thought and offered her a sad smile, his eyes communicating understanding and solidarity. "I'll get them," he rasped.

"They're in my sweatshirt...in the bedroom."

He nodded almost imperceptibly, heading off down the hall.

Olivia returned her gaze to the drawing so as not to have to look up at Huang. Lara's smiling figures looked back at her, the two of them standing prominently in the foreground with Elliot's smaller representation watching happily in the background. Her finger traced the raised crayon of the whimsical outlines, a tactile connection to the past.

To Huang's credit, he remained a neutral presence in the room, allowing Olivia her avoidance.

She could feel him though, quietly assessing the situation and herself. She tried to brace herself upon Elliot's return, watching as he extended the pages in Huang's direction, but as soon as they were in his possession she felt a wave of nausea course through her, anxiety and dread causing her heart to race and her palms to become clammy. She set her drawing on the coffee table to disguise the tremor in her hands, nervously swiping her palms along her thighs.

Elliot hesitated, still standing over Huang and not sure of where to position himself in the room. He knew that Huang had come to see Olivia, not him, but the thought of leaving her alone right now was intolerable. He felt an overwhelming need to be closer to her, and felt paralyzed by the inability to support her the way in which he wanted to with Huang in the room.

"Do you want me to... I can..."

He ran a palm back and forth along his jaw with a mixture of frustration and ambivalence, unable to formulate a question and not knowing what the hell to do.

"Sit down, El," she said softly, gesturing to the spot to her left.

He glanced somewhat uncertainly at Huang, but he made no attempt to dissuade him from remaining in the room, so he ultimately took a seat at the opposite end of the couch leaving an entire couch cushion between them.

Their body language remained tense, Elliot's fists clenched at his sides, while Olivia's hands had stilled just above her knees, her fingers unconsciously digging into herself as she awaited Huang's response.

He began to uncurl the papers in his hands and, perhaps intentionally, Olivia noted that Elliot had positioned Lara's drawing of Nikolai and the other perpetrators on top. It didn't delay the inevitable for long, Huang lifting it to scan the drawing of their figures embracing beneath, but he said nothing to acknowledge it, opting to return to the one depicting Lara's trauma.

He spent some time taking it all in and Olivia flashed back to the day prior, recalling the moment the crayon had snapped in half...Lara's disconsolate wail...the feel of her tiny body shaking against hers as she had grieved in her arms - memories of a lifetime of abuse erupting in a torrent of inconsolable sobs.

 _Hurt._

Olivia tightened her grip on her thighs, her eyes burning once more.

"When did she draw these?" Huang asked, the question a safe starting point.

"Yesterday," her voice cracked. "Everything happened yesterday."

Elliot turned his head over his shoulder to study her profile, remaining silent but his expression speaking volumes, anguish in his eyes. God, he wanted to touch her - somehow, anyhow - to cover her hand with his own...to curl his palm around her nape...any gesture; no matter how small, that would convey his support.

Once again Huang noticed the dynamic but didn't comment upon it, his focus predominantly remaining upon Olivia and his expression transforming into one imbued with empathy and sorrow.

"I'm so sorry," he said simply. "It's an unfathomable loss."

Olivia tried to appear stoic, but two tears escaped once more. She let them slip down her cheeks, the rest of her body immobile.

"This is a powerful image," he continued. "What brought it on?"

Olivia's eyes held his, her expression drawn. "I told her to draw what she felt. She started with the one you brought me... That one was the last." She swallowed, caught somewhere between the present and the memory of that moment, Lara's cries still echoing in her ears. "At first she didn't make a sound...but then the crayon broke...and she broke with it."

Huang nodded back at her, layers of recognition in his eyes. "That must have been an agonizing moment."

Olivia's brows lifted slightly in surprise. His response was that of a colleague who understood what it had been like to be in her shoes - what it was like to have to hold onto someone else's pain while suppressing the feelings it evoked in one's self. Perhaps because of his candor, she found herself responding in kind, her voice thick with emotion. "I've never heard anything like it."

Huang let the statement hang in the air, nodding back at her, his eyes returning to scan the drawing once more. He pointed to the largest figure looming over the others. "Nikolai?"

"Yes," she murmured.

Huang looked up at her again, his eyes still holding recognition and empathy. "Her drawing contains an immense amount of trauma disclosure. She must have felt incredibly safe with you."

Olivia shook her head subtly to dismiss the validation. "She was very brave."

"You did a remarkable job of earning her trust in a very short period of time."

He looked between Elliot and Olivia to direct the statement at both of them, but Elliot shook his head.

"That was all Olivia. Lara opened up to her. She helped her to trust. I was a reminder of her demons."

Olivia's head flew over her shoulder to look at him, her brows furrowed in protest. "She trusted you too, El."

"You didn't see the look in her eyes when she saw me for the first time. You know as well as I do that my presence was triggering for her."

"In the beginning? Fine. But yesterday _she_ asked for _you_. She put you in the drawings. She wanted me to share them with you, and then after...everything," she said with a slight waver in her tone, "when she was calm, she wanted to show you them herself."

Huang watched as Elliot didn't move to argue with her, but looked down at his hands, distress etched in his features.

"Elliot?" he asked. "It sounds as though she came to feel safe with you, too."

"Yeah," he rasped dismissively.

"But you feel otherwise?"

"It's not...I just..." Elliot scrubbed his palms over his face, sighing with frustration. " _I_ will always remember that night. I pray to God she didn't. But I look at that damned drawing and she may as well have put me in there too."

"Elliot-" Olivia attempted.

He shook his head, his hand darting out to silence her by covering her left with his right, the motion ending up startling each of them into silence. It had been reflexive. The touch in and of itself was ostensibly platonic, yet tactile gestures were something they'd been careful to avoid professionally and they knew that Huang was well aware of that.

Huang suppressed a smile as Elliot's hand lifted, hovered, and then returned to his side, Olivia all the while having frozen in place.

When Elliot spoke again his voice was quiet and thick with fatigue. "All I'm saying is that I've never been more conscious of my size and gender in my life. What those bastards put her through...the words I had to say that night... If you hadn't been there, Liv, she never would have tolerated my being in the room." He turned his head in her direction but didn't meet her gaze. "You know that."

Olivia matched his soft tone, still disagreeing but not vehemently so. "She chose what to draw, El, and how to draw it. She viewed you as friendly and safe. No scary anatomy, no scary face. The only thing-" Olivia stopped herself, shutting her eyes as she exhaled slowly, wishing she hadn't started that phrase.

Elliot lifted his head to study her profile, his eyes narrowing in discernment. "'The only thing' what?"

Olivia raked her hands through her hair before leaning forward, her elbows balanced on her knees and her chin resting in the angle of her thumb and steepled fingers. "The only thing she needed to know...was whether or not you had hurt me."

The silence in the room was deafening.

Huang let it sit for a moment before gently nudging them past it. "What was your response?"

"I didn't know if she remembered that night or not. I wasn't sure of the right thing to say, so I hesitated...but that only made her more anxious. She kept pointing to Elliot in the drawing, waiting for my response." Olivia could feel Elliot's eyes on her, hanging on her every word.

Huang nodded, gesturing to the drawing Olivia had rested on the coffee table. "That one?"

Olivia's eyes drifted closed again, steeling herself for the inevitable. "No," she breathed. "The second one."

She heard as Huang shuffled the pages in his hands, bringing the drawing of her and Elliot embracing above the dark one with Nikolai. Olivia spoke again to avoid the obvious focus, trying to keep the conversation centered upon Lara.

"She'd zeroed in on my injuries from day one."

"A commonality," Huang reflected. "A thread of connectedness between her experience and yours."

Olivia nodded. "I wanted to reassure her. I told her that Elliot pretended to be bad to trick Nikolai. That he protects people to keep them safe..." She finally looked up at Elliot to meet his gaze. "That you don't hurt me or anyone else."

"Did that calm her?" Huang asked.

"Yes," she replied unequivocally. "It was her identification of Nikolai as someone who had hurt her that made her fall apart." She was addressing Huang, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from Elliot, wanting to reassure him once and for all. Her expression softened into something imploring, willing him to believe her. "Elliot, look at the drawings. They speak louder than words." Her eyes welled with tears as the memories of their last moments together swept over her once more. She offered him a hint of a watery smile. "You made her laugh, El. For that one moment, she was able to be a child."

Elliot was visibly struggling to contain his emotions and Olivia reached for him this time, her palm covering the back of his hand and her fingers slipping along the grooves created by his knuckles. She hadn't forgotten that Huang was in the room, but her need to comfort Elliot superseded all else. Elliot registered this as well, and it only served to make him feel more moved. His fingers splayed to allow hers to curl around his palm, and then he tightened his grasp to hold her in place, the intensity mirroring that which he wished he could translate into an embrace.

Huang smiled to himself, allowing the moment to stretch on before addressing Elliot once more. "How did you make her laugh?" he asked gently, watching as their lips lifted in shared recollection.

Elliot ultimately severed his gaze with Olivia, turning to look at Huang as he rubbed his free hand along the back of his head, a wry smile still visible. "I pretended not to know who the people were in her drawings - the lighter ones," he clarified. "Kept mislabeling them until she quietly corrected me."

Olivia's smile broadened before she turned to face forward again.

"Elliot Stabler as a green-eyed blonde?" Huang suggested, his eyes sparkling back at him.

"Yeah, well..." he shrugged. "Just stupid humor."

"Instincts of a father," Huang reframed.

"Maybe," Elliot trailed off, growing contemplative once more.

Olivia looked at him once more, hearing the ambivalence in his tone. A darkness had clouded his features, one that she recognized all too well, and she squeezed his fingers in attempts to keep him in the present.

Huang also noted the shift in his expression, and this time he opted to press forward.

"Where did your thoughts go just now?"

Elliot was staring at a random spot on the coffee table, his hand still lingering along the back of his neck as he attempted to work out some of the tension. He remained silent for a while, but Huang sat with it, not unlike the way he had at the precinct several days prior.

"It's nothing," Elliot eventually responded. "I just...there was a moment that night in the basement before all hell broke loose. I was looking down at her...this tiny little girl with her tangled blond hair and I..." his voice had dropped and his tone had roughened, anger at what had befallen her mixed with pain and regret. "I suddenly saw Lizzie lying there."

Olivia's breath hitched, recognition dawning of what moment that had been - when she'd intuited he was breaking, unable to maintain his cover. "That's what that was," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, his hand falling away to pick at some nonexistent lint on his sweatpants.

"That's understandable," Huang attempted to normalize, but Elliot's eyes snapped up to meet his, an intensity there that was frustrated and raw.

"No. You don't get it, Doc. I mean she _became_ Lizzie. I was staring right at Lara and I could only see my daughter."

"You were presented with an unthinkable reality and an abhorrent role. Your mind responded to the image by associating your visceral reaction to Lara with someone you love. Again, that's understandable."

Elliot exhaled bitterly. "I saw her, and all I wanted to do was protect her. But whether Lara felt safe with me or not doesn't change the fact that she was lying in that hospital bed because I faltered."

The emotions surged within him until he was internally climbing the walls. He tried to pull his hand from Olivia's, but she held on tighter. He wanted to pace - to find a way to vent out some of the anger he felt toward Nikolai and himself, and he knew that she knew this. "Liv," he tried, a hint of desperation mixed with the warning in his tone.

"No," she said softly, a refusal but a tremulous one. "This isn't-"

Huang held up his hand. "Faltered how?"

Elliot sighed. "During the scuffle with Nikolai. I _had_ him...and then I didn't. He got in one good hit and I lost control. If I'd been faster, he wouldn't have gotten to that gun."

His voice had risen as he was flooded by self-blame, but Huang remained calm, holding his gaze and addressing him so quietly that Elliot's tone immediately deflated.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah," he rasped.

"You didn't lose control. You never had the control to begin with."

Elliot blinked back at him, his expression hollow. Huang's words had stolen the fight from him, his anger quickly becoming eclipsed by remorse. It was the harder of the two emotions for him to deal with. He hated showing signs of vulnerability, especially in front of Huang. Olivia's thumb was subtly running back and forth along the outside of his hand, her touch soothing but also not helping him lock away his emotions. His face and neck were flushed, his jaw clenched and his eyes continuing to blink resolutely against the moisture that was threatening to form.

"You never had the control," Huang repeated quietly to emphasize the statement. "Neither one of you did."

"I wasn't fast enough either, El," Olivia tried, but her words caused a grimace to pass over his features.

Once again he tilted his head toward her without meeting her gaze. "You'd been beaten and nearly gang raped and were so badly concussed that you couldn't even stand. For the life of me, Liv, I still don't know how you managed to back my play, let alone crawl to Lara's side."

They tightened their grasp on one another's hand.

"You were severely outnumbered and outgunned," Huang interjected. "The fact that you are both sitting opposite me is significant. Are you able to recognize that?"

"Yeah," they whispered in near unison, their expressions pained.

"Lara's death is a tragic loss. Nothing will make it right...but we all know what the remainder of her existence would have been in that basement. Because of your efforts, she was able to begin to heal. She was able to trust. To experience safety...love," Huang added, sliding the drawing of their embrace across the table before them.

Olivia's eyes immediately welled with tears, the warmth of Elliot's palm the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart. Even still, a few tears escaped to collect at her chin, periodically splashing onto her lap. She wasn't ready to have this conversation.

"Olivia," Huang said gently. "Do you remember what you told me when I confronted you about the false statements?"

Her breathing increased, her tears falling faster, but she didn't make a sound.

Elliot looked up at her, his gaze darting back and forth between Olivia and Huang, his brow furrowed in a silent question.

She continued to swipe at her tears with her right hand, eventually becoming self-conscious and extricating her left from Elliot's grasp, leaning forward to huddle over herself, her elbows on her knees and her forehead resting on her palms.

"Yes," she ultimately whispered, her voice barely able to sound.

Concern was etched in Elliot's features, and he wished she would look up again to connect with him once more.

"I said that I was afraid you'd split us up," she managed, every word catching in her throat.

"And when I asked you why that frightened you so much?" Huang led softly, knowing the answer but wanting her to put it back into the room for Elliot's sake as much as her own.

The motion of Olivia's back was uneven, her breaths coming shakily, if at all. When she spoke again, her voice was small and fragile, almost inaudible even in the stillness of the room.

"I told you it was all that I had," her voice broke and she continued to shield her face from view, the tears falling so steadily that she no longer made attempts to brush them away.

Elliot's heart broke. This had been the day that she'd tried to return to her apartment alone - the day she'd pushed her feelings aside and attempted to re-establish their boundaries. It had been a desperate attempt to preserve their partnership for fear that it would be ripped away from her too. Olivia had thought that she would be left with nothing at all.

He closed the distance between them, crossing the invisible barrier and not stopping until the outside of his thigh met hers, his right hand resting between her shoulder blades and his left hand smoothing along her forearm to loosely encircle her wrist.

She looked up at him in dismay, her tear-streaked face beautiful in its fragility.

He released her wrist to cup her opposite cheek in his palm, shaking his head at her, his expression holding empathy and regret and love.

"No more hiding," he said softly, his thumb delicately skimming over the moisture coating her skin.

He watched the anguish intensify in her eyes, her chin quivering as they silently acknowledged the end of what was once the most important partnership of their lives.

Olivia lost the remaining vestiges of her control and he pulled her into an embrace, his arms enveloping her securely and his lips resting against her temple.

"You have me, Liv," he whispered into her ear, keeping his words to her private. "I'm not going anywhere."

Her arms wrapped around him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he cradled her head in his palm. She hadn't made a sound, but her chest continued to jerk against his, a tension coiling into her body as she tried and failed to regain her composure. She was acutely aware of Huang's presence and was afraid of what he might think of her for having broken down to this degree.

Elliot felt as she tried to pull away from him, but he didn't let her go. "Huang's in _your_ home, Liv. You're not at the precinct. You have nothing to prove."

Her head was nestled in the crook of his neck and shoulder, his body providing a barricade between her and Huang, but she still fought to rein herself in. "Please," she whispered through jerking breaths. "I won't be able to stop if you keep holding me."

His chest ached but he understood, his arms loosening their hold and his hands coming to tangle in her hair as he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. "Okay," he murmured against her, not protesting when she made another attempt to extricate herself from his hold.

She straightened, her head tipped forward to hide behind the curtain of her hair. She was trying to decide whether to stay or to go, but ultimately the pressure she felt at being watched by both men was overwhelming and she wanted the privacy of her bedroom. "I'm sorry...I need..." she shook her head, standing and crossing the room without waiting for a response.

Huang watched as Elliot followed her movements with his eyes, clearly struggling to respect her wish for privacy when every impulse within him was screaming to go after her.

"Go," Huang offered with an incline of his head, indicating the direction of the hall, but Elliot shook his head.

"She's trying to get her control back," he rasped, a sheen in his eyes. "I keep her open."

Huang regarded him sympathetically. "That's not a bad thing."

"I know. But she won't let herself do that while you're here."

His words were blunt but his tone held no trace of accusation. In truth, he felt too depleted to find the strength for anger. Still, he tried to backtrack somewhat, not wanting to further complicate an already difficult encounter.

"I'm not..." he sighed. "I just mean that she'll let her guard down later. In private."

Huang nodded his understanding.

Silence descended upon them again, the rain still tapping insistently against the glass in a way that felt bleaker somehow given the weight of the conversation.

Huang was surprised when Elliot opted to speak of his own accord, in stark contrast to how the bulk of their previous encounters had unfolded over the years.

"That night...changed everything," he began slowly. He was treading cautiously. Huang already knew the truth about what had transpired in the club, but putting voice to it, even indirectly, made him uncomfortable. "But not...it's not what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

Elliot exhaled slowly, feeling guilty somehow and suddenly wishing he were having this conversation with a priest, not a shrink. A slight grimace passed across his features, his eyes trained at a random spot on the floor. "I'd known for a while..." He shook his head in self-correction. "I think I'd always known..."

"That you were in love with her," Huang stated simply.

Elliot's head snapped up to meet his gaze, a mixture of surprise and wariness in his expression. Huang was regarding him kindly, a hint of a smile touching his lips, and although he didn't appear to be passing judgment, Elliot felt the need to clarify to ensure Huang didn't have the wrong impression.

"Doc, you gotta know I never...there was never anything unprof-"

Huang held up his palm with a slight shake of his head to dismiss his concern. "I know."

Elliot eventually nodded his acceptance of his words, but was struck by another pang of sadness at the knowledge that what had apparently been obvious to Huang had not been to Olivia. He cleared his throat against the tightness. "Olivia didn't know," he said with regret. "I should have told her how I felt that night. I shouldn't have waited. But I..." He swallowed. "I felt like an abuser. I had treated her so badly. I didn't think I had the right to feel the way I did." He shook his head. "That I _do_ ," he amended.

"The last time we spoke, you shared that the boundaries between fiction and reality had been blurred - that it had felt real for you both...transcended role play."

Elliot's eyes burned and he scrubbed a palm over his face as if the action could somehow scrub the emotion away too. "Yeah."

"Your holding back about your feelings was an attempt at protection. You were trying to put her needs above your own."

"Yeah...but I only ended up causing more damage," he replied with remorse. "If I'd known..." Her words to Huang echoed in his ears, and the pain sliced through him once more.

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"Yeah." He stared off into the distance, his teeth scraping over his lower lip.

"Out of curiosity, when did you?"

Elliot looked up at him. "Tell her?"

"Yes," Huang smiled.

"Monday evening." A slight smile crossed Elliot's lips at the recollection, but faded again as the other memories came back with it. "The night before she had to hole up at the precinct. Thirty-six hours before her abduction."

Huang saw the darkness cloud his features, his voice having roughened again.

"A waking nightmare."

Elliot brushed his thumb along his brow. "I thought I'd lost everything... Almost did." His voice cracked almost imperceptibly, but he fell silent then, worrying that he might lose control and not wanting to demonstrate that much vulnerability in Huang's presence.

Huang recognized his attempts at reining himself in and opted to change the focus. "I've read your statements from that day. I would imagine that they're accurate this time?" he added - a slight dig at their prior attempts at concealing the events that transpired during the undercover.

Elliot's eyes darted up to his, relaxing somewhat when it became clear that there was no admonishment in his quiet challenge.

"Yeah. It's all in there."

Huang believed this to be the case, but pressed a bit more to quell his own concern for Olivia. "I would hope that you wouldn't conceal something to try to protect Olivia's privacy...if it might have ramifications for her emotional well-being?"

Elliot's brow furrowed, trying to read between the lines. "If you're asking me if she was assaulted, I promise you on my _life_ I wouldn't hide something like that. What you read is the truth. Petrov wanted a re-enactment. I refused. Kane _would_ have," his voice became gravelly, "when Liv was trapped with him behind the glass, but by the grace of God, Kat brought the cavalry in time."

Huang nodded, observing the way Elliot's fists had unconsciously clenched at his sides, color flushing his face and neck as his blood pressure rose.

Elliot cleared his throat again, his expression pained. "She wasn't going to fight him." His nostrils flared. "The bastard told her my kids' lives were on the line, and Liv was going to sacrifice herself to protect them. And I couldn't do a goddamned thing to stop it from happening." He let out a bitter exhale. "Son of a bitch was probably lying. I knew that. She knew that. But she wasn't going to fight him."

Huang tilted his head to the side. "You expected her to call his bluff?"

Elliot's anger transformed into sadness before he could steel himself for the change, the memories of that moment - her palm against the glass, her expression as she mouthed, 'I love you' - crashing over him with unexpected intensity. His eyes glistened and his breathing became uneven. "No," he rasped. "She always puts others before herself. I had a gun to my head and my kids' photos were on the floor, and I knew she was prepared to put herself through hell and back again for their sake...for mine."

"And I'd do it all over again," her quiet voice interjected from across the room.

They turned to find her lingering by the hall, her arms crossed over her chest and her body dwarfed by his T-shirt that engulfed her frame. She hesitated for another moment before approaching them, once again taking her spot on the couch to Elliot's right.

"I'm um...sorry for..." she trailed off, glancing at Huang. "I just needed a minute."

He nodded.

She was sitting with her arms wrapped around herself, but Elliot was relieved that she had opted to recreate their proximity, her side and thigh resting against his. He took in a deeper breath, trying to rid himself of the image of her with Kane.

"I'm okay, El," she murmured, taking in the tension in his body language. "He didn't get the chance to touch me."

He turned his head over his shoulder to sweep his gaze over her face, his brows knit in concern.

"Not really," she amended quietly.

Pain flitted across Elliot's features. "I shouldn't have left your side. Not at the precinct...and not in that room."

Olivia glanced down at his fists again where his knuckles were white from the intensity of his grasp. She slid her arms apart, her left hand starting to reach for him, but in the presence of Huang, the impulse still felt wrong. Instead, she curled her fingers around her leg just above the knee, praying that Huang would leave them in private again soon.

"It wasn't your fault, El... None of it."

Elliot's jaw clenched. He remembered the moment following her abduction when he'd realized that she hadn't just been held in the club, but locked in the room with the memories of their shared trauma. When he'd reached her, held her, he hadn't believed that Kat would have been able to find them. He hadn't believed that rescue was on the horizon. He'd thought it was the end...of everything. Petrov had wanted to watch them - torment them - and he'd refused. Instead, he had provoked him. He had thought it would take the focus off of her. Olivia had begged him to stop - to comply with anything and everything Petrov had in store for them, but he couldn't bear the thought of hurting her again. Yet now, in retrospect, he wondered if he'd made the wrong call.

 _Just do it, Elliot. Whatever they want you to do, just do it._

Had he complied, had he bought them some time, maybe he would have prevented Kane from touching her at all.

He saw her eyes searching his, trying to discern the memory. He held her gaze, his expression holding a complicated mixture of emotions. "I shouldn't have left you alone," he repeated.

Her brow furrowed in question.

He swallowed. "Maybe...maybe you were right. Maybe I should have done what he'd asked. I just...God, Liv," his voice roughened. "I couldn't hurt you again."

Olivia's eyes softened. "Elliot, you made the right call. I wasn't thinking clearly...if at all." She shook her head lightly, no doubt in her mind that the alternative would have been catastrophic. "Petrov had nothing left to lose. The end game would have remained the same, and I would have been..." she paused, a number of imagined horrors assailing her. "I would have been much more vulnerable," she finished tremulously.

Elliot grimaced slightly at her words, not wanting to think about what else might have befallen her in that scenario.

"Neither one of us would have made it out of that room."

Elliot nodded slowly, accepting the validity of her words despite the fact that he continued to carry so much regret for all that she had endured.

Olivia inclined her head, her voice becoming softer as she almost forgot that Huang was in the room. "Stop tormenting yourself, El. I know I was in bad shape that day, but I promise you I'm okay."

Huang knew the comment hadn't been intended for his ears, but he interjected gently to seek clarification. "In what way, Olivia?"

She looked over at him with a slight startle response, unprepared for his voice to have addressed her. "Sorry?" she asked with some confusion.

He offered her an apologetic smile. "You said you were in 'bad shape'," he clarified. "In what way?"

Olivia let out an exhale that held a tinge of self-deprecation. "In every way." She shook her head almost imperceptibly, more to herself than to him. "Waking up in the back of Kane's squad car... That was frightening. But waking up in total darkness…realizing that I was back in that room... I didn't...didn't cope well." She ran her palms back and forth along her thighs, trying to stay in the present. "At first I tried to rationalize away the fear - told myself that Elliot had gotten my text message...that Cragen had tracked my location with that damn watch." Her lips quirked wryly as she held Huang's gaze, remembering her outburst that had precipitated their last encounter.

Huang's eyes sparkled in shared recollection, nodding at her to continue and watching as the brief glimmer of amusement faded from her features and a haunted expression took its place.

"But then, I..." her voice failed her, and she took a moment to try to distance herself from the memory.

"You realized they had taken it from you," Huang followed.

Olivia nodded, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. "That was the point I lost hope," she managed, her eyes closing as she felt the warmth of Elliot's palm come to rest between her shoulder blades.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the rain. Elliot was lightly skimming his thumb back and forth along her back, her shallow breaths gradually deepening the more time that passed.

Huang waited for Olivia's eyes to reopen, holding her gaze and ensuring she was tethered to him before addressing her once more, his tone quiet and gentle. "In the absence of hope, trapped in darkness, what did you cling to?"

The emotions that played out across her features told a story of their own, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she forced herself to maintain the connection with Huang and give him the truthful answers that only served to underscore all that was now in the open.

"Elliot," she replied in a hushed tone, her expression stricken. "I thought of him...his apartment...the last moments before we left to head to the precinct."

 _Can you hold onto this?_

"Recollections of safety and comfort."

She nodded. "As vividly as I could muster."

Huang regarded her sympathetically. "Did it work?"

Pain sliced through her again, her brows knitting against the onslaught. "Not for long."

Elliot felt a tremor course through her and he slid his hand upward to curl around her nape, his fingers subtly sifting through the strands of her hair in the way in which he knew had the ability to soothe her.

Olivia rubbed a palm along her forehead, conflict in her eyes. "I um... I think I dissociated," she admitted somewhat hesitantly as her hand fell away. "I lost time."

Huang nodded. "It was protective."

"I know. I just..." She blew out a puff of air. "I have no awareness of how long I was held there. It's disconcerting."

"At least five hours," Elliot replied gruffly, running his free hand along his jaw. "Kat and I headed north as soon as I read your message...but I didn't see it for a while." His voice wavered. "And then I guessed wrong."

Olivia stopped fighting against her impulse to touch him and extended her hand to rest above his knee, his palm immediately covering the back of her hand to solidify the connection.

They held one another's gaze, their eyes a safe anchor amid a tumultuous sea. Olivia shook her head subtly at his silent apology, her own expression holding nothing but compassion. "You found me," she murmured after a pause. "We're here now."

Elliot cast his eyes over her, nodding back at her with gratitude even as the traces of remorse lingered. It was with difficulty that Olivia eventually shifted her focus back to Huang, trepidation creeping back in as she waited for him to speak.

His eyes dipped to their joined hands and back again, his body language calm. "You both were confronted with the prospect of an imminent end, not only in confronting your own mortality, but in confronting the prospect that the new beginning you were embarking upon would be stolen from you." He took a moment to look between the two of them, noting that while both detectives' expressions were stricken, Olivia's was also marked by apprehension. He attempted to convey reassurance, his tone gentle as he addressed them again. "And now you're here," he echoed Olivia's words. "A second chance."

Olivia nodded back at him, feeling as Elliot's fingers curled beneath her palm to hold onto her more securely. Her face was pale, warily holding Huang's gaze, her mind still reeling from the awareness of what it meant that Huang was actively acknowledging their personal relationship...that any thought of keeping things under wraps had evaporated before they could even figure out how to explain things, or what they intended their next move to be.

Huang's eyes softened, opting to address the elephant in the room. "Olivia, my aim in coming here today was to offer support...as a colleague...and a friend." He inclined his head to try to emphasize his sincerity, regarding her with empathy. "I know your impulse was to try to hide this from me, but there's no need." His features shifted into an approximation of a shrug, his expression kind. "I saw this coming before you did."

She swallowed, no doubt in her mind that Huang's ability to read people was akin to the talent of a chess master - having the ability to see three moves ahead even when the pawns at play were trapped in the myopia of the present. Yet while the sentiment behind his words was unexpected and welcome, it didn't change the fact that the truth was painfully evident to them all: in the aftermath of all that she and Elliot had weathered, there were no illusions of objectivity anymore. If either of their lives were in jeopardy - in the event of another Gitano - they would always choose each other. They wouldn't be able to take any course of action that might cause them to lose one another. They would never be able to withstand it.

Huang saw the sheen return to Olivia's eyes as she was swept up in another wave of emotion, and somehow his expression became even more empathetic. "This is a _good_ change, Olivia," he said softly, his professional impartiality taking a backseat to his personal regard for her, glancing up at Elliot in silent approbation before returning his focus to the woman before him. "You have more now than you'd ever given yourself permission to seek. You have more than your partnership. Much more."

Two tears escaped and she swiped them away, wishing she could rid herself of the vestiges of the self-doubt and the fear.

Elliot felt the shift in her breathing as she started to break apart, and he wove his hand more deeply into her hair, bowing his head to murmur quiet words of reassurance against her as his fingers stroked her scalp.

She took in a jerky breath and tried to control her exhale, her diaphragm betraying her attempts at regaining her control.

"Tell me what's behind the sadness, Olivia," Huang coaxed. This was more than the fear of the loss of a professional partnership.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find her voice, when Elliot's began for her.

"A lot of it is my fault," he said as Huang's eyes met his again.

Olivia started to shake her head in protest, but Elliot didn't wait for the battle of wills.

"Yeah, it is, Liv," he said firmly before looking back at Huang. "Like I said, Doc. I should have been honest with her from the start. Instead, she convinced herself that my feelings were connected to the undercover...to some goddamned sense of guilt or atonement or something."

"Elliot-"

"I pushed you, Liv. You told me about the nightmares and your fears and your feelings, and I didn't have the guts to tell you that you weren't alone. You were _never_ alone, Liv. Not that night and not for much longer than I had any right to feel this way." He dropped his voice with a mixture of shame and the desire to evoke a bit more privacy. "We've talked about this."

"Elliot, dammit, that's not what this is," she pressed, her words sharp but her tone more tearful than accusatory. She pulled her hand from his grasp, rubbing her palms over her face.

He visibly deflated. "I just... I feel like you'd feel more secure, with this...with us if I hadn't held back."

She breathed a sad laugh at the irony. "God, El. This thing between us is actually the only thing that I feel remotely secure about right now." She looked over at him as she finished the statement, trying to gauge his acceptance, but he remained pensive, uncertainty in his eyes. She sighed with fatigue, her hands falling heavily into her lap and her focus shifting to stare down at them as she struggled to find the words. "You're not wrong that a part of me will always be afraid that you'll change your mind," she admitted quietly, "but that's not a fear you're responsible for." She continued to look down, but tilted her head slightly in his direction, her tone becoming even softer. "You know it runs deeper than that."

Elliot sat with her words for a moment, trying to grapple with his regret and her truth. He did know. He knew everything about her and all that she'd carried within her since childhood. He wished she could see herself through his eyes - wished that he could silence those fears once and for all; yet he ultimately recognized that no amount of assurances on his part would be able to heal those wounds in the absence of time.

"Okay," he conceded, his voice rough with emotion.

Olivia scraped her teeth over her lower lip, feeling the urge to hold back, but pushing herself to remain open. She looked up at Huang, forcing herself to address his initial question.

"I told you before, that I'd been questioning my ability to do this job."

Huang nodded.

"I'm still questioning it...but now it's for different reasons."

He waited for her, as did Elliot, and Huang recognized that Elliot's calm acceptance of her words was an indication that Olivia had already shared her feelings of ambivalence with him.

"I know that the threat has passed. Logically, I know this."

"But it doesn't feel that way."

Olivia shook her head. "No," she replied wistfully, dropping her gaze. When she spoke again, the words came slowly, ashamed of the sentiments to come and of her inability to better control her own mind. "You asked me once if I'd been feeling anxious...and I told you it had gotten better."

"Yes."

"It had been better... That wasn't a lie. But now..." She blew out a puff of air, her expression pained. "I feel anxious all the time," she admitted softly.

She caught Huang's slight nod out of her peripheral vision, Elliot's thumb once again skimming slowly over her nape, though both men remained silent.

"It gets worse when I'm alone," she breathed. "Significantly so... and lately, the only time I feel any semblance of calm is when Elliot is with me." She looked up at Huang again, avoiding Elliot's gaze as the admission somehow made her feel inadequate and small. "I don't mean in the apartment," she began even more hesitantly, "I mean physically beside me...like we are now." Tears pricked in her eyes and her throat suddenly ached from tightness. "I've never felt so dependent upon anyone in my life." She sniffed and tried to disguise the wobble in her chin. "If I can't even function when he's in the next room...how can I possibly do my job without him as my partner?"

Her chest jerked and Elliot wrapped his arm around her more fully, still saying nothing to disrupt her train of thought but trying to convey support.

Huang shook his head at her, empathy in his eyes. "You aren't ready to," he said simply, no trace of judgment in his tone.

The wobble of her chin became more pronounced, struggling with feelings of grief and fear and vulnerability. "What if I never am?" Her voice broke and the tears spilled out over her cheeks once more.

She didn't resist as Elliot ran his hand up and down her arm in a more obvious gesture of support.

Huang offered her a gentle smile. "Olivia, it's been one week today since the undercover. Three days since your abduction..."

Olivia sighed with frustration and fatigue. "I know that."

"You need time, Olivia. Time to heal in the absence of threats and instability. There's no quick fix here."

Elliot turned into her more fully to study her profile, his hand stilling its motions as he curled his palm around her upper arm. "I haven't been feeling solid either, Liv," he admitted. "I keep feeling the need to check to make sure you're still here with me...that you're safe."

Huang appreciated what it meant that they were no longer censoring themselves in his presence or their own. It was a sign that they had become more open with one another - that in the evolution of their personal relationship, they had processed many of the things that they had previously attempted to conceal. He looked between the two detectives, waiting until he had both of their attentions to address them. "You've both endured an unfathomable amount of trauma and loss in an incredibly short period of time. Give yourselves permission to feel...to seek external reassurance right now."

They nodded subtly, their expressions drawn.

"With your permission, I'd like to circle back with you in a week or two. See how you're feeling with more distance from these events."

"Okay," Olivia murmured, feeling overwhelmingly depleted.

Huang shifted his gaze to Elliot. "The last time we shared a space, you left the room out of fear that Olivia couldn't speak freely in your presence." He looked between them again. "My impression in speaking with you today, is that that's no longer a concern...for either of you."

"No," Elliot shook his head, offering Olivia a small smile of devotion and solidarity as her eyes finally met his once more. "Not anymore."

Olivia took his left hand in her own, re-establishing the connection.

"We've, uh..." Elliot continued, addressing Huang but still looking at Olivia. "We've had a lot of time to talk...work through things."

She nodded back at him, her mind cycling through the painful moments and the blissful ones, seeing a similar cluster of emotions reflected in Elliot's eyes.

"Some topics have been harder than others," Elliot acknowledged, "but holding back hasn't been an option..." he added a bit wryly. "We read each other too well."

Elliot's gaze returned to Huang who smiled in response. "A blessing and a curse."

"Yeah, maybe...but I'm grateful for it...for Liv."

Huang nodded, thinking back to their complicated history and the complex jumble of emotions that had churned beneath the rigid boundaries they had erected to keep the feelings at bay - to keep one another safely at arm's length. He thought of the Gitano case, and his encounter with Elliot in the tumultuous aftermath.

 _I wish I didn't..._

 _Didn't what? Didn't care so much?_

Elliot had come so close to voicing it then - to putting a different name to his feelings, but instead he had clung to his anger, unwilling to confront the true source of his fear.

It had been such a long road for them, a painful one, and yet despite all that they were grappling with in the present, there was a different quality to their dynamic now - something peaceful; centered.

He looked between them, his expression warm. "For what it's worth, I'm happy for you both." He paused, looking down at the coffee table as he tried to choose his words. His eyes fell to the drawing of their embrace, and he recognized that Lara had encapsulated the crux of the sentiments he wished to convey. His eyes lifted again. "I have no doubt that the support you're providing to one another right now is the most healing, and the most meaningful... Yet in whatever way I can be helpful, you have my full support." His focus settled on Olivia, who for once was meeting his gaze with more fatigue than trepidation. "I hope you know that."

"I do," she replied softly.

"I'm not recommending a transfer, Olivia...just some reshuffling."

Olivia nodded, his action anticipated and not unwarranted. She could see the sincerity in his eyes...his compassion and regret. He wasn't trying to take anything away from them. In many ways, his actions were protective, motivated as much by his understanding of how deeply their love for one another extended as he was by his desire to ensure that they'd never again have to make an impossible choice...nor live with the consequences of it.

Huang pushed himself to stand, re-zipping his jacket as Elliot and Olivia also came to their feet.

"I hope I haven't completely ruined your meal...or your morning," he offered apologetically, inclining his head toward the kitchen.

Olivia shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse from emotion, but her expression resigned. "The timing was unexpected today...but not the outcome," she acknowledged, sadness in her eyes.

"We're...okay, Doc," Elliot added, his hand loosely connected to the small of Olivia's back, his words holding meaning not only for the two of them, but also for their status with Huang.

Huang's eyes conveyed his understanding of the olive branch. He wasn't the enemy here.

He nodded and began to make his way toward the door, yet just as his fingers brushed the handle, Olivia's voice stopped him.

"Wait," she called softly, her inflection somewhere between a question and an afterthought, as if she hadn't fully made up her mind to continue down whatever path she was considering.

Huang turned to face her, his eyebrows lifted lightly in question, watching as she rose up slightly, on the balls of her feet, moving her mouth to speak into Elliot's ear. Elliot's expression shifted from confusion to surprise to acceptance, and he straightened slowly as he continued to process her intent, slowly nodding down at her.

"You sure?" he asked gently.

"I think so," she breathed, conflict in her eyes.

Elliot made a gesture of approval, effectively leaving the ball in her court, but the silence stretched on as she struggled to move forward.

Eventually she spoke, her voice equal parts regret and trepidation.

"Beyond Lara, I've been feeling guilty about the people who were hurt - Munch, Kat...Anya," she murmured, her brow furrowing as she revisited the memory. "I know, as you said, the control wasn't in our hands...but I wish I could go back...change things somehow."

Huang nodded.

Olivia exhaled heavily. "I know the undercover led to some good - dismantling the club...helping those other women and girls. But I can't help but wonder how many others there were that we didn't know about...didn't reach in time..."

She looked up at Elliot then, exchanging a long and meaningful look that Huang was unable to interpret, but that Elliot understood. Ultimately he began for them, speaking slowly as he continued to study her expression carefully for any signs that she had second thoughts.

"When Liv was missing...when Kat and I went to the house in the Catskills, we found more than the surveillance photographs Petrov had taken."

He hesitated then, waiting for Olivia to have the final say in whether or not to disclose the remaining piece of evidence they'd been concealing.

She made brief eye contact with Huang before dropping her gaze, unconsciously shifting her weight more closely into Elliot's side. "They found a laptop," she said so quietly that Huang was almost unable to make out her words.

Huang's brows furrowed, trying to figure out why they would have withheld this information and knowing that it must have had to do with the contents. "What was on the laptop, Olivia?"

She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. "Everything that happened in that room...the night of the undercover."

Huang remained silent, gradually processing the information.

Olivia cleared her throat. "After Elliot found me, when we were being held together, Petrov referenced an 'entertainment center', but I didn't realize what he meant."

Huang looked at Elliot. "But _you_ did," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Elliot rasped.

"Where is it now?"

"At my apartment," Elliot returned uncomfortably. "Kat had taken it out of the house. She was trying to protect our privacy."

Huang's brow furrowed, looking between the two detectives. "You've watched the footage?"

Olivia felt the flickers of shame return, her cheeks flushing slightly as she shook her head, struggling to look him in the eye. "Only as much time as it took for me to convince Elliot to stop torturing himself."

Huang looked to Elliot, who was also averting his gaze, noting the tension in his jaw and the pained expression that had taken the place of what might have been anger once upon a time. "Elliot?" he pressed, though his tone was gentle.

"Yeah, I watched it," he said roughly.

"Why?"

There was no accusation behind the word, Huang's question stemming from concern at the impact this would have had, given the degree of self-blame he'd witnessed from the detective prior.

"To see myself through Liv's eyes. To see what I'd become...the version of myself that tormented her in her nightmares."

"The role you played - not a version of yourself."

"Might as well have been a monster," he said with some bitterness.

Olivia leaned into his touch, soothing him somehow with her trust and her calm.

"Why tell me now?" Huang asked.

"Peace of mind," Olivia replied. "Elliot only saw files containing footage of our hours in the club. But if we're wrong... If there are others..."

"You want justice for those victims," Huang followed.

"We were going to dig deeper," Elliot added, "but Liv..." he trailed off.

Elliot looked to her, his hand lightly descending upon her shoulder.

Olivia chewed on the inside of her lower lip, once again meeting Huang's gaze. "Fin said something to me the other night after the standoff. It took me a while to process it...in all the ways that mattered." She folded her arms across her chest. "I wasn't fully present in that moment," she admitted.

Huang nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"We had to walk down that hall...past that room...and I got lost in there for a while. Just staring at that space." She paused for a moment, remembering how flooded she'd been...the level of desperation she'd felt in her attempts to pry the deadbolt from the door. She cleared her throat. "Anyway... Fin helped to draw me out of that mental space and before we moved away, he told me that I'd spent enough time in that room."

Elliot increased the gentle pressure of his palm, helping to ground her just as effectively as Fin's words had in that moment.

She lifted her chin a bit higher, her voice becoming more even. "We've both spent enough time in that room."

"Yes, you have," Huang replied, understanding in his gaze.

She swallowed. "We've been working through a lot of what we each struggled to come to terms with that night and all the ones that have followed. I don't want to go back," she finished quietly, shaking her head almost more to herself than to him.

"I understand."

Elliot dragged a palm down his face, his concern for Olivia's privacy once again taking precedence. "I uh...I just need to know that this will be handled with discretion." His brows knit into an expression that was almost imploring as he held Huang's gaze. "I don't care about me...but Olivia's had enough of her privacy violated over the past few days. I need you to promise me-"

Huang held up his palm. "You have my word."

Elliot nodded, pain in his eyes. "I'll get it to you soon," he assured him.

Huang looked at Olivia. "Okay?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "Thank you...for um..."

He shook his head. "No need."

She nodded somewhat numbly, trying and failing to offer him a semblance of a smile.

Huang bid them farewell and let himself out of the apartment, Elliot and Olivia too caught up in their own thoughts to fully process his departure. They stared off into the distance in the direction of the closed door, their eyes unfocused as they cycled through the events of the morning.

As the silence stretched on, another pang of loss struck Olivia with full force, the finality of Huang's assessment slicing through her with a painful intensity, and suddenly she found it hard to breathe. She inhaled jerkily and let out a more pressured exhale, the motion of her back drawing Elliot into the present. He gently pivoted her to face him and wrapped her up in his arms, his embrace intensifying at the feel of the uneven rise and fall of her chest against his. He could feel the tension in her body. She was fighting to keep herself together, fighting to cling to her control, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she would pull herself out of his hold. His chest ached and his eyes burned, his arms holding her tightly against him in a desperate attempt at preventing her from pulling away. _"Stay with me… Please stay,"_ he thought over and over to himself. _"I need this… I need you."_ He felt the loss of their partnership just as acutely as she did, his blinks increasing as he fought to contain the moisture within. He was desperate to maintain the physical connection, the feel of her beside him the only thing strong enough to combat the hollow feeling in his chest at the recognition that her life would soon be placed in someone else's hands…that he would no longer be able to protect her. And with that thought, he suddenly felt completely lost. He didn't know how to relinquish that role…didn't know how to endure the daily separation and the perpetual fear of not being there.

He felt her begin to pull away, and it added to his feelings of failure. He felt powerless to comfort her here…just as he was now powerless to protect her on the outside. He pressed his lips together in attempts to prevent himself from breaking, the tendon in his jaw standing out starkly against his skin as he slid his arms apart, his hands slipping down the frame of her body to hang limply at his sides. He couldn't speak past the lump in his throat, his breaths coming unevenly as she took a step backward.

Olivia couldn't see through the blur of the tears that threatened to break free at any moment; couldn't think beyond the overwhelming need for air. She was caught between conflicting impulses - feeling frozen as much as she felt the urge to hide - turning away from Elliot and clutching her head in her hands as she tried and failed to control the jerking motion of her diaphragm that was preventing her from taking a deeper breath. The more she fought to control the deluge, the more she felt the dam start to break, the intensity of what threatened to pour forth rivaling that which she had succumbed to following that fateful call. _"I don't know how to do this… I can't do this…"_ she thought as the first tears began to fall, her shoulders shaking as she began to crumble.

And then she heard Elliot's voice in her head, as clearly as it had been when he'd spoken the words this morning:

 _You're not in this alone._

She took in a shuddering breath and turned to face him, futilely swiping at her tears and regarding him with a mixture of anguish and need. Her eyes searched his, taken aback at the vulnerability in his expression, the pain. "Elliot," she choked out brokenly, unable to find the words that followed.

A long moment passed between them, a myriad emotions communicated in their gaze, and then Olivia strode forward, hurling herself back into his arms and clutching onto him with as much strength as she could muster. He let out a ragged exhale, relief mixing with need, one hand cupping the back of her head as his other arm wrapped around her waist. "I've got you," he rasped, trying to pull her even more closely against him. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, absorbing his warmth and his scent as she allowed herself to fall.

They clung to one another, riding out waves of emotion that ebbed and flowed depending upon the memories that resurfaced. Their partnership had spanned a decade marked by triumphs and losses, fractures and unity; yet no matter what trials and tribulations had come to pass, the threads of their history were interwoven into a tapestry overwhelmingly comprised of mutual respect and support - the complexities of what might once have been considered a close friendship, now clearly defined as love.

Whether it was desperation borne from the need to offset the profundity of the loss by re-establishing what had been gained, or from the desire to convey all that they were thinking and feeling when no words would suffice, they turned into one another, seeking a greater degree of intimacy and connectedness. Olivia's cheek slid against his, her lips blindly trailing up the column of his throat and along his jawline until they brushed against his own. She captured them again with more urgency, and Elliot responded in kind, his mouth crashing over hers as he deepened the contact, his hands tangling in her hair as hers wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him to her just as desperately. There was no thought, no hesitation, just an overwhelming need to be closer to one another.

Elliot's hands fell to her waist, taking hold of the fabric of her shirt and bunching it in his hands. Olivia followed his intent and met him halfway, breaking their kiss just long enough to raise her arms to allow him to divest her of the cotton. His lips captured hers again before the garment hit the floor, Olivia's hands sliding down his torso and slipping beneath his undershirt before reversing course again, starting to collect it on her arms before Elliot quickly took hold of the back of the fabric to yank it overhead.

As before, as soon as the offending garment was removed they were back in one another's embrace, the feel of their bare torsos pressed against one another evoking a heightened feeling of reassurance and warmth. Their breathing was still uneven as they struggled to break free from the clutches of their memories, Olivia's tears still escaping as Elliot deepened their kiss once more, his mouth swallowing an utterance from her that hovered somewhere between a sob and a moan.

Olivia's hands shook slightly as she fumbled with the drawstring to his sweatpants, urgency and adrenaline coursing through her as Elliot continued to steal her breath. The intensity was different this time, as if something had been unleashed within him. He wasn't holding back anymore. Their trust in one another, physically and emotionally, had never been more secure. He had let go of his fear. The only fear he felt in that moment was that by losing the partnership he risked losing her completely - that she could still run from this...run from him. Right or wrong, Elliot had always felt possessive where Olivia was concerned. He had attempted to frame it as a byproduct of his protectiveness, but he knew that the truth was that it had always stemmed from longing. Now, even knowing that Olivia shared the same feelings and the same fears, he was driven by a desperate need for tangible reassurance that she was still his.

His hand met her trembling fingers, their combined efforts succeeding in loosening the knotted drawstring at his waist as his sweats fell to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside, groaning into her mouth as her hand wrapped around his length. It wasn't enough. He needed more of her - all of her, his left hand fisting into her hair as he held her closely against him. He let out a growl of frustration as his right hand fought to rid her of her leggings, ultimately backing her up against the wall as he dropped to his knees, yanking the material down her body as her hands steadied herself on his shoulders. When all was stripped away, his mouth immediately met her center, his hands firmly grasping her hips as he held her in place, her lower body pinned between him and the wall.

Olivia let out a startled cry that transformed into a moan, her head tipping back as she struggled to regain her bearings. She was trapped between the heat of his mouth and the coolness of the plaster at her back, the sensations he was causing quickly overwhelming her until all she could do was succumb. Her hands clutched onto him more tightly, her thighs shaking and her breaths coming so quickly that her lips were tingling as the pleasure built more and more. He was relentless, demanding responses from her body that she was wholly unable to control. She felt consumed by him in a way that transcended anything she had felt before, and when his hand joined the workings of his mouth, she lost herself completely.

Her knees buckled but Elliot prevented her from falling, the unrestrained sounds of her climax reverberating through the space. It was only when her utterances transformed into whimpers that he let her come down, his fingers lingering within her and his mouth drifting over her pelvis as she continued to quake around him. Even then, he barely afforded her enough time to catch her breath before he was back on his feet and kissing her hungrily and deeply, her shaking hands coming to rest on either side of his neck in an attempt to hold onto him as much as she was able.

Elliot pulled her more closely against him and lifted her into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he started to blindly navigate them in the direction of her bedroom.

Olivia felt the heat of him pressed intimately against the crux of her thighs, the friction as he moved causing him to rub against the slickness of her still sensitized core and causing another moan to escape her. Her legs tightened around him in search of relief and Elliot faltered, pivoting sharply as he pressed her against the wall, his hips rocking forward of their own accord. She cried out again, but the sound was largely muffled by his mouth, another rush of liquid heat combining with her earlier release and making her throb with need.

Elliot groaned as her nails raked against the back of his neck, the feel of the softness of her curves pressing against the hard planes of his body causing his mind to spin as he imagined pushing inside of her velvety depths once more. He thrust forward again, more urgently, and her mouth ripped away from his in a desperate gasp for air, her lower body writhing against his but the strength of his hold preventing her from gaining the leverage needed to align herself with him.

"Please," she panted, her dark eyes almost completely black as she held his gaze, her breathing coming rapidly through parted lips. "El, please...I need-"

His mouth crashed over hers, preempting the words to follow, succumbing to her pleas and his need as his hips shifted back before thrusting forward and burying himself deeply within her. She cried out into his mouth, her walls immediately clenching around his length, the slight discomfort barely registering for her in the haze of her desire. He thrust forward again, and again, his body stretching and filling her more and more deeply as she clung to him with every last ounce of strength that she had. In the dim recesses of each of their minds, they recognized the dynamics at play - Elliot's dominance taking over every movement and every breath as if staking his claim. Yet the only thought in Olivia's head was that she wanted it - wanted the unrestrained passion that she had always known existed beneath the surface, but that he'd been struggling to keep at bay, and the most prevalent thought in Elliot's mind was that Olivia wasn't fighting to regain the control. She was pulling him closer, not pushing him away, giving herself to him more completely than she had to anyone ever before. It made his heart swell and his need intensify, overwhelmed by her presence, her trust and the significance of the moment for each of them against the backdrop of their past.

Olivia felt herself hurtling toward the edge, her strength faltering somewhat as her legs slipped lower over his hips, struggling to maintain her hold. Elliot registered this even as he found himself increasingly lost to the sensations building between them, somehow managing to control their descent as he lowered them to the floor, his hand protectively cradling her head and not once severing their intimate connection.

Olivia arched into his thrusts, her arms wrapping around him as she coaxed him to lower himself more fully against her, seeking all of him - his warmth and his weight. Neither were able to process where one ended and the other began, their moans becoming more urgent as their shared rhythm transformed into something that transcended themselves. All conscious thought evaporated, their mouths finally separating only because of their need to become closer to one another. Elliot's head tipped forward over her shoulder to press against hers as they held one another in an even more intimate embrace, and when they finally fell over the precipice, the pleasure was mixed with a feeling of belonging and unity that neither had ever experienced so completely.

They clung to one another, allowing the feeling of connectedness to stretch on in a seemingly endless moment in time. As they began to drift back into the present, Elliot nuzzled her gently, breathing her in and intermittently placing kisses against her temple, the shell of her ear, the column of her throat. When she turned into his caresses, he raised his head just far enough to look into her eyes, his lips brushing over hers as his fingertips lightly skimmed over her forehead and his thumbs traced the contours of her cheeks.

He paused then, his eyes gazing down at her with reverence and love, yet the more time that passed in that lingering moment, the more he felt the stirrings of emotion that threatened to emerge through the calm.

Olivia saw a sheen in his eyes that hadn't been there before, and her brows knit slightly in concern, wanting to soothe away whatever was behind the resurgence of emotion.

"I love you, Benson," he said softly, trying to mask his concern.

Her eyes searched his, trying to read him even as he was trying to lock the emotions away. "I love you too," she offered by way of reassurance, though her expression clearly sought understanding.

Elliot deflected her unspoken question, trying to use humor to further distance himself from his thoughts. One side of his mouth quirked into a wry smile, indicating the entrance to her bedroom that remained several feet away with a slight gesture of his head. "Almost made it," he said.

Olivia smiled lightly in response, her palm slowly smoothing over his shoulder blade. "Close enough," she replied softly, her smile broadening at the recognition of all that had transpired. "Actually, to be honest, I uh..." she trailed off, a hint of bashfulness coloring her features.

"What?" he asked with an incline of his head.

Olivia dropped her gaze though the hint of a smile remained. "I kind of always imagined that this is how it might be between us, if we ever..." she shrugged, her eyes returning to his.

"You thought I wouldn't have any willpower?" he teased.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "No...I thought neither one of us would."

All of those arguments over the years. All of the pent up frustration. She'd always imagined that if they ever crossed the line, what would be unleashed would be bigger than both of them.

Elliot swept his eyes over her with a mixture of recognition and heat. "You might have been right about that," he murmured, his thumb absently tracing the fullness of her lower lip.

She was looking up at him with affection and calm, but he felt her shift almost imperceptibly beneath him and knew that she couldn't be comfortable trapped beneath his weight and the hardwood floor.

"C'mon Benson," he said quietly. "This is not where you belong."

He eased them up from the floor, keeping his arms around her as she self-consciously raked a hand through her tousled hair. He stood with her and almost immediately scooped her up into his arms, smirking at her slight yelp of surprise.

"Just finishing what I started," he said innocently, carrying her into the bedroom and gently depositing her onto the mattress. He winked at her as his arms slipped away, starting to head back in the direction of the hall.

She arched a brow. "Where are _you_ going?" she asked with curiosity.

He said nothing, casually waving her off as he disappeared through the door. A minute or two passed and she became aware of the chill in the air, slipping beneath the covers as she waited for Elliot to reappear. He returned a short time after carrying a tray that held two glasses of water and their deli sandwiches that Olivia had forgotten had even been delivered given her tumultuous emotional state ever since Huang had appeared at her door.

She smiled and scooted herself up to sit more upright, one hand loosely tucking the sheet around herself as Elliot set the tray in front of her and slid in beside her.

He noticed her lips purse somewhat as if suppressing amusement and called her on it as he extended a glass of water in her direction. "Yes?" he expectantly held out the word.

Olivia's eyes sparkled back at him as she took the glass, taking a small sip before responding. "So uh...How long does this wooing phase last?" she quipped.

He gasped, his hands melodramatically clutching onto his heart. "You wound me. A 'phase'?" his volume increased with mock outrage. "Does Olivia Benson think so very little of me?" His hands fell away at her light laughter, reaching for his glass.

"Okay, okay. I intended no disrespect," she placated, adding a tinge of Italian mob boss to her accent.

Elliot smirked, clinking glasses with her before taking a couple of large swallows. He cleared his throat as he set his glass back down on the tray. "This isn't 'wooing', Benson. This is preventing you from starving to death so I can have my way with you later."

She chuckled at the statement and the slight waggle of his brows. "Now that sounds more like the Stabler I know and love."

He nodded, unwrapping one of the sandwiches to check the contents, noting it was hers and extending it her way.

"Thanks," she said quietly, amusement giving way to sincerity. "For all of this."

"You're welcome," he replied, his response equally genuine.

They ate in comfortable silence, each of them hungrier than they had realized, though Olivia was unable to prevent her mind from continually returning to her concern for whatever Elliot had attempted to conceal from her in the hall. She had finished half of her sandwich when her apprehension won out, finally opting to press him on what had triggered the somewhat tearful look in his eye.

She spoke hesitantly, initially directing her words to a fold in the sheet before turning her head over her shoulder to study his profile. "El... Are you gonna tell me what that was?"

Elliot finished chewing as a means to buy himself some time, focusing on the sandwich in his hands to avoid looking her in the eye. "What what was?" he tried, feigning ignorance.

It was the wrong move, the extra beat of silence on her part causing guilt to slice through him with a gutting intensity.

"Don't do that," came her soft reply, her voice barely more than a whisper.

His shoulders visibly slumped and he set his sandwich back down on the tray, trying to find the words. He had tried to shove his concerns aside, to keep moving forward to try to outrun his thoughts, but suddenly the emotions were back at full force, Olivia's quiet search for the truth causing the house of cards to crumble. He knew what he needed to ask her - what would hopefully quell the anxious stirrings of his mind, but by asking the question he also invited the possibility of the alternative...and he would be left in shambles.

Olivia became more concerned than ever at his prolonged silence, and when he briefly darted his eyes to meet hers, she was taken aback to see that the glimmer of tears had reappeared.

"El, what is it?" she pressed gently. "What's wrong?"

"I uh..." He swallowed, struggling to speak through the tightness in his throat. "I just need to ask you...to know..." He faltered again, looking down at his hands.

Olivia reached for him, covering the back of his hand with her palm.

He splayed his fingers so that hers slipped into the gaps, tightening his grasp around her to hold her in place. "Are you... Are you having second thoughts?"

"What?" she asked in an incredulous whisper.

His voice roughened. "If you could go back... Would you have wanted to change things? Just be my partner?"

He looked up at her then, and the tumult in his eyes was almost more than she could bear. She slid closer to him, lifting her free hand to cup her cheek in his palm. "No, of course not." She looked between his eyes, a pang of worry hitting her and her voice suddenly holding a more tentative quality. "Would _you_?"

"Never," he immediately responded, trying to put her at ease.

She nodded somewhat warily, still trying to understand the sudden fear. "Elliot where is this coming from? Did I say or do something to make you doubt that?"

He smiled sadly. "No, Liv. I just...I know you would have wanted to keep things quiet...protect the partnership and keep things under wraps." He shrugged. "We both would have," he added wistfully. "But then today, with Huang...when that was taken away, I saw the look on your face and I thought..."

"You thought what? That the partnership was more important to me than being with you?"

He hesitated. "Maybe...I dunno."

Olivia shook her head with regret, compassion in her gaze. "Elliot, if I lost you, I would have already lost the partnership. None of it would matter."

It was too late to go back to the way things were, not that she would have wanted them to. But had they, by some miracle, been able to conceal their personal relationship from their colleagues, their partnership would have been inextricably connected to it.

She tilted her forehead to rest against his, her thumb skimming over his cheek. "You are what matters, El."

Elliot nodded against her, shifting to face her more fully as he wrapped his arms around her, coaxing her toward him until she cast her thigh over his, straddling his lap as he pulled her into an embrace. There was no intent to progress things further, just to be closer to her once more. One of his hands wove into her hair, the other smoothing in slow circles over the expanse of her back.

Minutes stretched on before he spoke again, his voice quiet and holding a degree of trepidation. "I don't know how to let someone else protect you. I'm so damn terrified of not being there... Now more than ever."

Olivia sank further into his warmth, her cheek rubbing against his neck as she processed his words. "Maybe Huang was right," she said after a pause. "Maybe we're just not ready yet."

"Maybe."

"Seems like we have some time."

Elliot nodded. While Cragen had yet to specify the duration of their paid leave, he imagined that they had some weeks before they had to return. His arm needed to heal, and Olivia needed to recover both physically and emotionally from all that she had endured. He wasn't sure what Olivia would ultimately decide to do - whether time and distance from the trauma and the loss of Lara would create a lens through which her ambivalence might wane, or whether she would opt to find a different way to help the victims that needed her advocacy and support. Either way, he had a feeling that his fierce feelings of protectiveness would not be so easily contained.

"I might be a bit over-protective for a while," he acknowledged through a slight smile.

She chuckled, responding with faux shock. "You?"

"And I might be feeling a bit...possessive right now, Benson."

He felt the curve of her lips as she smiled against the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"I noticed," she said softly, her thoughts centered upon their most recent intimate encounter.

His fingers sifted gently through her hair, his hushed tone taking on a more serious quality though his body language remained calm. "Is that okay?"

Olivia recognized the many layers of meaning in the deceptively simple question. Was it okay for him to take control sometimes? Should he have held back? Had she felt safe?

"Yeah, El," she assured him, her arms tightening around him to emphasize her words.

He nodded but said nothing and she could almost hear the thoughts cycling through his mind. She needed him to know that while she understood the origins of his feelings of possessiveness, that there was no need for him to harbor any fear.

"I'm not going anywhere, Elliot." She stroked the back of his neck. "You have me. Losing the partnership hasn't changed that."

"Okay," he managed, inhaling deeply as if her scent was the balm that would reassure the workings of his anxious mind.

He pulled back far enough to meet her gaze, and it was when their eyes reconnected that he felt calm wash over him once more. Olivia remained his anchor in good times and bad, and in that prolonged moment, her eyes were holding him steady by virtue of her openness and the layers of history passing between them. He framed her face in his hands, wordlessly communicating depths of emotion that no amount of words could ever effectively express. She was his other half, her presence in his life a gift of which he felt undeserving but for which he was forever grateful.

Her eyes glistened as she absorbed all that he was conveying, never feeling more whole or more seen.

"We're partners, El," she said softly, emotion pervading her tone. "Always have been...always will be."

"Yeah," he breathed, slowly closing the distance to kiss her with reverence and devotion. It was tender and gentle, their lips brushing against one another's in soft caresses that felt more intimate and loving than ever before. Her hands lifted to lightly touch his cheeks, just as his were hers, and as the moment stretched on, he whispered promises against her lips that caused the tears to flow once more.

He felt the slightly tremulous quality to her breathing and knew that she'd understood every word, his thumbs brushing her tears away, and when he pulled back to lovingly regard her, he murmured, "Semper Fi, Liv... All the days of my life."

* * *

 _Finis..._

* * *

Just a quick note to add that I'm so appreciative to those who are reading this as it means that you've hung in there with me throughout the difficult chapters until the very end. I hope that the ending lived up to your expectations and that you feel that I left Elliot and Olivia in a good place and on the path toward continued healing. As always, I would welcome your feedback. (It's the last opportunity I'll ever have to know your thoughts). :)


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